Sound Life
by Self-Titled Demo
Summary: Spain is dead, leaving Romano distraught and wishing for there to be a way for him to see his beloved Spaniard alive and healthy...Only to wake up in a strange alternate world... with another Spain seeking his affection.
1. Lovely Calamities

"… and that is what our bosses have decided. There will be no opposition on our part, or consequences will be administered."

An incredibly drained, broken voice spoke out over the near silence of the meeting room. The blank faces of many nations stared up at England, whose expression was just as existent, though the rigidity in his clinched fists betrayed his attempt to cover up his observable distress. Other nations chose to stare at anything but the blond man; papers, the ceiling, their hands, a lone spider creeping along the oddly shaped table... Someone coughed, another fought with everything they had to choke back the tears that were forming in their eyes.

"I would advise..." England began once more, his throat constricting with every syllable, "...for everyone to return home. Make no attempt to see those who have been chosen for this... this reconstruction. It will only make the process worse." A wail broke out near the back of the room, quickly followed by grunts and quiet humming attempting to pacify the tears of the blond Nordic. The Englishman sighed, closing his eyes. "The chosen ones have already been notified of their... _duties_." He gagged on the word, swiftly bringing his hand up to his mouth to prevent anymore sounds of grief but his effort failed, and a choppy cry strangled itself in his throat. America rose from his seat beside England, his face taut and detached.

"As you may, or may not have noticed, there are many countries who are not here at this meeting." He spoke, lacking the usual glee that normally accented his words. Many of the nations glanced around, taking in just how empty it was compared to the mass numbers of a normal gathering, before turning their attention back to the American with confused expressions plastered on their faces.

"But Mr. America, wouldn't they need to know this information as well?" Lithuania asked, a slight panic behind his words as he noticed Latvia and Poland were absent. Other countries murmured words in agreement, while some chose to remain silent.

"They have already been informed of the reconstruction plan." His face darkened, completely blank despite the caring touch to England's back, and his voice resounded with suppressed anger and sorrow as he continued his speech. "The nations who are not here are the ones chosen for reconstruction." Gasps, howls and shouts filled the air in the large room as the last words fell off America's tongue.

"No! Nonononononono! Not _him_...! Not Romania!"

"Bel...Belgium's going to... my god..."

"I had...a feeling this was the reason they were gone... I'm sorry I couldn't help you more... Hungary..."

"...Norway... so that's why..."

"NO!" A strangled cry resounded above all the others. "You fuckers, _what the hell is wrong with you!_" Silence overtook the room at Romano's howl, his face contorted into a hellish mixture of fury, disbelief and misery, and his cheeks burned scarlet as tears gushed down them. "How the FUCK can you let this happen!"

"It was our superiors' decisions. We can do nothing abou-"

"THE FUCK YOU CAN'T!" Romano screeched, tremors racking his entire body to the point where he had to place his arms on the table to hold himself up, but even then, he still was on the brink of collapsing into a crumpled mess. "We... We _have_ to do something! We just can't let them di-"

"Romano." England's word came out only as a mere growl, but the ferocity and tenderness twisting through it was enough to shut the Italian up. Damn his fear of that tea sucking bastard. "If...if we don't allow this _reconstruction_ to occur... they will go through more pain than any of us could ever imagine. They will _die_ as their _people_ die... rot as their country decomposes... It will be slow... as the fibres of their existence are ripped from their bodies, thread by thread. Do you want them to suffer like that? Do you not remember what pain Rome went through as his empire collapsed?"

"N-n-no.. but..."

"There is no negotiation in this, Romano." It was Germany this time, his eyes closed but still radiating the grief that matched the Italian's. "This plan... it will lessen their pain. I know you don't like this idea... And neither do we, but it's necessary to save lives." His voice reflected the aura hovering over the room, only intensified by the curtains giving it a muddy glow to everything. Just like a blood bath... and the blood stained their hands for allowing the slaughter of so many countries... so many innocent _people_ who were just like them. They felt pain, both physical and emotional, they lived normal lives many, _many_ days of the year, and they had relationships... _family_ they had to leave behind, all because of some _stupid_ little bullshit war.

Yet, deep inside Romano knew that they were glad it wasn't them who had to fade away, though... he couldn't help but wish that it was South Italy that had to die instead of... _him._ God dammit, he couldn't even bring himself to think of the bastard's name without a breakdown, and he did exactly that, all over the table. Nobody came over to comfort him. They all remained in their seats, refusing to seek or give any kind of condolences to those they didn't admire, choosing to wallow in their pain, or that of their loved one, knowing that _this_ was just part of being a nation, whether they liked it or not. Romano certainly did not like it at all.

Russia lightly chuckled to himself, his hands neatly folded on the table. "I don't think it's all too horrible, Mr. Romano." He smiled, all sugary and innocently with this head slightly cocked to the side. The Italian jumped up, a tear-filled glare warping the flesh of his face.

"And why the fuck would this not be horrible, you communist fuck! What the hell is wrong with that motherfucking head of yours! This is people's _lives_ we are talking about, not some damn _toy_ that you can toss out when you get bored of the fucking thing!" Romano roared, his muscles tensing in preparation of leaping over the table to throttle the much larger bastard, and even the concrete hands of the potato licking freak, now clinching his shoulders, wouldn't save the Russian from his wrath.

Russia grinned, malice twisted eyes cracking to stare at the Italian. "I'm looking forward to imaging how everyone's going to beg for their lives~" Too bad he wasn't closer to Romano, for if he was, his face probably wouldn't hurt as much as it did right after the last flick of his tongue. Sweden, though he still terrified the shit out of Romano, had just made it on his list of badass nations as his fist slammed into the Russian's nose, sending him flying out of his chair, blood oozing from his nostrils. Oh, Romano just loved the _crunch_ as that bastard's nose crumbled under the knuckles of the furious Nordic, whose eyes were wild and enraged, much, _much_ more fearsome than anyone, save Denmark and a few others, had ever seen.

"Berwald, _Berwald stop!_" Finland bawled, holding Sweden by his stomach in an attempt to pull him back to his seat. Somehow, he succeeded in gently tugging the Swedish man back down, though his glares were still like daggers at the now cackling Russian. Momentarily, his eyes softened as he glanced down at the Finnish man gripping his coat, and tenderly hauled him into his lap to properly wrap his arms around the smaller nation. Sweden cooed to Finland, attempting to calm his wails. "I just want this to stop…" he managed to painfully whisper after a while, hardly loud enough to be heard despite the silence of the room.

"Shhh... T'no. 't w'll be ok'y."

"Ahahahaha~ Da, _da, _everything will be okay...but~" Russia chortled, one of his cheeks still rigid against the floor, but he was still able to lock his lavender orbs upon Finland; A blood splattered sneer stretched itself across his lips. "You won't be here for much longer, _Finlyandiya_. Better weep while you still can~" Everything ranging from shocked glances and grieving stares fixed themselves on the small Nordic man, who merely sniffled and nuzzled his face into Sweden's chest. His lids drooped, swollen and red from the tears.

"Finland… You mean… you too?" Denmark croaked, horror etched into every crevice of his face, and it only deepened as Finland gingerly nodded 'yes'. Romano faintly, but just barely, noticed the strength waning from Finland's fingers, though he attempted to keep them latched around Sweden's neck with everything he had. Dread bubbled up in the Italian's chest, swirling, and fucking around with his breathing, making each shallow gasp unbearably painful, while at the same time, forming a haze that permeated his brain, numbing everything around him. Finland muttered something all of the other nations, but hell if Romano could understand him, for he could only hear his heart droning away in his ears like some kind of beat that only demons could dance to.

The next thing he knew, Finland's hands had dropped to his side as he lay limp in Sweden's arms. Iceland and Denmark froze, unable to choke out any sort of sounds, though Sweden…. Oh Sweden… He clutched Finland closer to his body, trembling so hard from tears; Romano could've sworn he felt the table under his fingers shake, but the howls that breached the muffled ears of the Italian… He had never heard anything quite like it… So deep… and aching, like a wailing grizzly, crying for a vanished loved-one only to find their remains in some dirty, bloody cave out in the middle of fucking _nowhere_. He couldn't take this shit anymore… he had to _go_… Without a word, or a second glance at the Nordics, Romano left, hardly hearing the concerned, but defiantly not wanted, groan of Germany, questioning what he was doing. He turned for only a moment, casting a scowl at the blond, and then ran… as fast as he could.

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><p>Romano had no idea where he was going. Signs, people, buildings, landscapes; they all blurred into one single blob to the Italian's eyes, each colour a slight different shade of brown and grey, even as those hues morphed to golden browns, emeralds, and the occasional red splotch he failed to differentiate them from the next thing that shot across his line of vision. His legs carried him through the streets, and though they ached something horrible, he refused to stop. Romano had to get... had to see... He had to...<p>

"_Merda!_" He screamed as he tripped on one of the' loose' cobblestones leading up to a rather oversized house. Sniffing, before lifting himself up off of the ground, he picked at the stone with his foot, remembering how many times he had asked that bastard to fix it only to get a reply like _oh~ that stone isn't loose, I just checked! _or _You're just so cute!_ And no, for your information, Romano didn't just happened to trip at the same exact spot every time he passed it, that damn stone was loose. A squirrel must've broken it right before he arrived and fixed it as soon as he complained to his former caretaker. There was no way an Italian man, such as himself, could be so clumsy. Scowling, he glared up at the house, realizing for the first time that day... that this would be... _No. Don't think about that, dammit. Everything is going to be okay..._Air gushed into his lungs, but was quickly exhaled as he made his way to the front door and knocked once.

Silence met his warning of entry, and fear welled up in Romano's chest. This never happened at the tomato bastard's house, especially to the Italian. Spain, that bastard, had some uncanny way of knowing whenever Romano was in his country, and would always remain in his home like some kind of little puppy, awaiting his arrival before pouncing on him at the first knock... That's all it ever took. Just one. He frowned, lowering his hand to the doorknob, only to find it was unlocked... also strange. The Spaniard did believe in having a house open to everyone, but, thankfully due to his earlier years, he still had some strange paranoia about certain masked men coming in and stealing away his precious treasures, and as such, kept his doors locked. The knob easily twisted in his hands, allowing him to enter the home.

Every light in the house was off, every window blocked off by the tawny curtains, and it absolutely _terrified_ Romano. "¿Quién es?"A voice, stern but still quiet, sounded off to his right. He was barely able to make out a lone figure perched on the loveseat, though he could clearly imagine a pair of emerald eyes straining to see the guest at the entrance of his home.

"It's me bastard." He responded, gingerly closing the door behind him. "Why didn't you get up to answer the door, huh?" Spain weakly laughed, sending a jolt of alarm down Romano's spine. He recognised that stupid noise, more than anything else in the world. The tomato bastard was in pain... and a lot of it at that, but the dumbass... damn him.

"Ah~ I'm sorry, Lovanito. Please, come over to me."

Romano scowled, crossing his arms. "Pff. Get your ass up and come to me, fucker."

Spain's voice stopped purring in his throat, choosing instead to sigh as he stared down at the hands resting on his blanket covered lap. "Lovino, I... Please, just..." he paused, blinking several times before glancing back up to the Italian. "Please come and sit by me... just for a little while." That look, so desperate and pleading; Romano's heart ached more and more every second he stared into the broken eyes of Spain, but sure as hell didn't want him to know that. He huffed, hoisting himself off the wall and shuffled over to the older nation while presenting him with his usual pouty glare. Spain's emerald orbs lingered on his own olive ones, though they lacked the lustre that Romano greatly admired, even in this darkness that seemed to smother everything. Hell, Romano could barely make out the details of the other nation's face, but he didn't need to... he _never_ had to clearly see Spain to know it was him.

Soft fingers entangled themselves in the hem of Romano's jacket, attempting to pull him down. "What's wrong with you, dammit? Since when do you try to drag me down instead of leaping up and crushing my body with one of your fucking hugs?" He growled, but still allowed the older man to position him in the small space beside him. Their shoulders touched, along with their thighs, but for once, Romano refrained from pushing Spain away and spewing out profanities. A pained smiled crossed his lips, though his eyes remained as dark as the room. Romano's brows furrowed. "You're hiding something. What is it?"

"Lovi... Your lip is bleeding." Spain murmured, reaching up in an attempt to wipe away the blood that had dripped down Romano's chin, but his hand was only swatted away.

"Stop trying to change the subject. What the hell are you hiding?"

"Lovi, I-"

"Answer me Spain!"

Spain stared down at his lap once more, his brows scrunched up in a way Romano never wanted to see ever again. He knew the Spanish nation absolutely _hated_ it when he used his country name, though that was the only other thing Romano ever used to refer to him besides bastard, dumbass or any related word, but he usually brushed it off... yet, this time it seemed to break something inside the Spaniard.

"Romano.." he whispered, ignoring the pained twitch in the Italian's fingers. "They've started... the reconstruction." Tears burned at Romano's eyes, threatening to burst from their prison at any moment. Those bastards were supposed to wait a few days before initiating this stupid plan, but... then he remembered the unfortunate Nordic nation... Those fuckers lied to their own countries. "Although, I don't know if I should be thankful or irritated that they didn't start in Madrid." He chuckled, returning his gaze to his sweet little Italian, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear with his thumb. "However, with you here... In my last moments, I'm glad... _blissful _that they did, but I... I won't be able to move from this spot on my own, you see... I... can't move my legs, _mi amor_. So please, just stay with me, even if it's for my own selfish reasons."

The other tears finally broke free from their confinements. How could that bastard just sit there and smile about his country literally being torn, piece by piece from his body? Romano couldn't even begin to fathom it. Their bosses, the bastards they were, didn't even care if they were physically hurting a living, breathing _person_, taking away their will, their voice, and their _lives_, and all for what? Just to save the world, or was it their own hides they were worried about? Well fuck them. Fuck them all.

"Why are you smiling, bastard?" Romano coughed out, completely ignoring the hand caressing his cheek and neck.

"Because you're here, Lovino, and that alone makes me happier than anything else. You were told to keep away from the selected nations, yet here you are." Spain hummed, combing his fingers through the messy locks of brown hair that perched themselves on Romano's skull. The Italian leaned into his strokes, seeking comfort in the familiar touch before breaking into a wail, and standing up. He stepped away from the centre of the loveseat, more to the edge of its arm, his teeth biting into his palms in an attempt to hush his howling, though it did little; Romano still hiccupped, and coughed through his tears, drenching his hands with moisture and screeches. Secretly, he wanted Spain to hold him, coddle him as he did when he was a mere underling of the nation, but his fucking ego wouldn't allow such a thing. Damn that pride of his.

A tiny shriek left his lips when he felt a pair of arms tug him down back on the couch. Spain held him close to his body, though their positioning was rather awkward and a tab painful, on Spain's part at least. Somehow, Spain had managed to use his arms to drag himself across the couch, but his legs were left twisted, and tangled in the blanket resting on them, and when he pulled Romano down, his back was tightly pressed against the rear of the cushions in an attempt to give the smaller man as much room as possible. Romano snivelled as Spain nuzzled his face into the crook of the Italian's neck. "No llores, mi amor. Por favor." He left burning kisses on the underside of Romano's jaw, and the smaller man could still feel the lips of the other man grow colder with every touch.

"Dammit, bastard."He grumbled, pulling away from Spain long enough to position the dying nation's head on the arm of the couch. Scooting down the length of the sofa, he reached down to Spain's legs, much at the dismay of the older man, and nearly gagged at the sensation under his fingers. It was as if the Spaniard's muscles had _melted_, while still trapped beneath his flesh. _So this is what it's like... to have parts of your land torn from you._ No wonder many nations isolated themselves from the rest of the world when they lost land... It was horrid, and this... this wasn't natural. Romano shuttered as he gently lifted Spain's legs onto the couch, feeling the once warm, firm muscles slither like ice-cold ooze under his touch. "You're getting cold." Romano sneered.

"_You_ could warm me up, Lovi." Spain suggested, his smile a cross between something that fuck-face France would constantly wear around his possible victims, and that of complete hopeful innocence. Romano rolled his eyes.

"You're such a pervert, Antonio." The Italian growled, but nonetheless, proceeded to crawl over Spain and lay on him... To keep him warm of course. Almost instantly, Spain wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him close enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

"You said my name~" he whispered, leaving chaste kisses all over Romano's face, which burned a faint red.

"Whoop-de-fucking-doo. Now stop kissing me." He grumbled back, shifting slightly so his weight would mostly be on his side and Spain's left arm instead of his chest, but his head remained nestled in the crook of Spain's neck; his left leg stayed sprawled across Spain's.

"Oh, but Lovi~ You've never called me by my human name before! This is a special moment~" Spain giggled, using his other arm to tug the blanket, which he kept folded on the back of the couch, over them. Romano remained silent, allowing Spain to revel in such inadequate things, despite his current situation. Dying, in Romano's mind, wasn't any kind of 'special moment' at all.

A peaceful hush overtook the two, Spain listening to Romano's breathing and occasional sniff while the Italian drew lazy shapes on the older man's buttoned shirt, directly over his heart. "Antonio..." He finally whispered, tucking his hand in the dip of Spain's neck, only to continue stroke the skin with this thumb. Damn, he was getting cold.

"Yes, my love?"

"Do... do you think... there is some way for you to stay?" One of Spain's brows rose.

"What do you mean?"

Romano fidgeted, keeping his gaze into Spain's throat. "I mean... when pota-... Prussia lost all of his land, he still was able to keep a physical body. Can that happen... with you?" Spain chuckled, pressing his lips on the flesh directly below Romano's eye.

"No, _mi amor_, I cannot do that."

"But-"

"Lovi, after World War II, Gilbert was turned into East Germany, and when Germany was unified, he remained, much like how you and Feliciano did after your unification." His voice was soft, matching the strokes of his fingers along Romano's shoulder. "I can't really understand how it all worked out, but it just won't be the same with the reconstruction. Merging regions and completely eliminating and rebuilding them from the ground up with new names and people... just aren't the same, and you know that."

Romano whimpered, attempting to bury his nose even deeper into Spain's neck. "I don't want you to leave, bastard." He had so many things he still wanted to do with the Spanish idiot, so many things he wanted to tell him but could never bring himself to do them. _I'm just a coward. A damn coward, not even able to tell him... how..._

"I'll never leave you Lovi. I promise, and do you know why?" Spain breathily chuckled, pushing Romano so he was once more sprawled across his chest, his face a mere inch away from the blushing Italian's. "_Te amo_, Lovino." Romano scowled as the Spaniard ran his fingers through his hair, careful to avoid that annoying curl.

"You say that to everyone, fucker."

Spain smiled, leaning his head up far enough to lay a kiss upon Romano's lips. His breath hitched in this throat at the touch, his body ridged for a few moments before completely relaxing in Spain's arms. They parted, Spain searching for something in Romano's eyes, though the Italian had an idea of what it was... After all of these years...after all the denial on both of their parts, it finally came down to this...in Spain's final moments. Romano didn't say a word. Instead, he allowed his head to dip back down, kissing the Spaniard with the frustration, impatience and passion that had accumulated over the decades. Chuckling, Spain coaxed Romano into opening his mouth and deepened their kiss, letting out soft sighs every time their tongues tangled with each other. It was...perfect...

Soon enough, Romano had to break away from the Spaniard, sitting up and straddling him, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. Normally, such a position would cause the Italian to go into a fit of curses and head butts, yet he refrained from doing so, deciding to gently gaze at the man below him. "Antonio... I..I" he stuttered, sounds jumping from his lips without any sort of comprehensible meaning behind them. Spain weakly sighed, running his hands up both of Romano's thighs, lingering on his hips before reaching up to take the smaller, lighter hands in his. He squeezed his fingers, smiling as he did so.

"You don't need to say it, Lovino. I know...Tesoro…mio." Spain's eyes slowly slid closed, and his fingers became limp in Romano's hands, slipping from his hold.

"A-a-a-ntonio! ANTONIO!" He screeched, clutching at his own mouth with his nails, inadvertently reopening the cut on his lip. "No! Not yet! You're not supposed to die now, dammit!" Tears melded with the blood dripping off his chin, only to fall and leave pinkish spots along Spain's shirt. "You promised! You fucking _promised_ you wouldn't leave me!" Romano collapsed, his face pressed tightly against Spain's cheek, though now it was bitter. He wailed, and howled; his entire body aching and twitching with pain as he drenched the Spaniard's couch and skin with his tears. "Please... God, Buddha, Allah, that British bastard, who the fuck ever...please just give him back to me. I don't care if he can't walk, or if it will cost me part of my land, please..." Romano pleaded, tightening his fingers into the collar of Spain's shirt. "Please, it's the only thing I want...He's the only one I've ever had. I'll do anything for him...go anywhere for him. Bring him back... please. I...I wish he never died. That he would be with me for the rest of my life... alive... and healthy. Please..." For hours on end, Romano continued to bawl, eventually crying himself into a deep slumber.

He dreamed... that he was alone in a pure white room, though he couldn't see where the walls met the floor nor could he tell how far away they were from where he was standing. Solitude...it was blissful. Romano took a step forward, admiring the way his shoes clicked against the floor and echoed into the pearly void. No pain, no feelings, nothing. Just white, and blank, much like the current state of his mind. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, allowing his fingers to linger on his lips as his eyes darted from space to space.

It was as if he was lost on a new canvas, before a painter defiled it with his mark, and he grinned, thinking of all the ways he could make it beautiful. It would be bright; a flawless blue mixed with a single point of gold floating high above luscious greens and the occasional tan streak. There would be a few trees here and there, thousands of carnations and lilies growing in their shade and along the stream that flowed through the field. Peaceful...warless; _Perfect _in the eyes of the Italian. He wanted to live in a world like that... but not alone... no. Taking in a breath, Romano sighed again, allowing his hands to flop by his side. The overwhelming whiteness of everything was getting to him, making his eyes water with its luminosity.

Romano tingled, thrown from his dream as a breeze washed over his skin. He frowned, remembering that he was originally inside when he passed out so wind was out of the question... along with the brightness that pierced his lids. He never turned the lights on, so it should still be dark in that room, and he was lying on his back... on something hard and prickly; not the Spaniard, of course, unless he somehow turned into a porcupine when he died. That was absurd. So where the hell was he? After letting out a grumble, he decided that it would be for the best if he just opened up his eyes to see where the hell he was, but what he was met with as he did so made his heart nearly leap into his throat. A pair of emerald orbs, slightly covered by a lock of brown curls, pierced his own, and an oh so innocent smile rested below them; lips curling up to reveal pearly teeth as he saw the Italian stare back at him.

Now if only that face wasn't two inches away from Romano's...


	2. Permanent Vacation

**I must thank all of you for the reviews and alerts.**

**Remember, this is told in Romano's perspective, so as the names he uses to refer to people changes, they will also change in the text that's not spoken words. If anything seems confusing right now, I swear it will get an explanation later.**

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><p>"What the hell… <em>What the <strong>HELL<strong>!_" Romano shrieked, attempting to escape the man by flattening himself as close to the ground as he could, but after thinking for a second, he wanted to shoot himself for such a stupid idea. What would he do? Sink into the earth like some worm with this… this Spanish_ bastard_ over him? And on all fours, no less! That said idiot merely grinned, curling his fingers in the grass surrounding the two while sending a jolt of an unfamiliar feeling through Romano's heart. Sp-Sp-Spain… He... he was _alive_. ALIVE. This was impossible, Spain is _dead_! Romano _watched_ him die, yet he was only a breath away from him, grinning that stupid, ignorant smile of his that the Italian just happened to love. Panic began to settle in his bones. There was no possible way that this could be Spain, _his_ Spain. Who the hell was this imposter! Frantically, he managed to scoot back a few feet, only to come to a sitting position as his body slid up the trunk of a large, leafless tree. The poser Spain crawled forward, his jewel-like eyes still fixed upon Romano's. "Who the hell are you! What do you want from me; I don't have any money if that's what you're after!" Why, why oh _why_ did that bastard look exactly like Spain, and _why_ was he still trying to get as close to him as physically possible! "G-g-get away from me!" Oh great, now Romano could feel his body respond to the panicked state he was quickly achieving. Tears burned behind his eyes, and he chewed on his bottom lip to keep himself from crying, twitching when he realized he opened the wound on his lip for the second time. Shouldn't it be healed by now? Damn!

The imposter Spain seemed to take notice of this, his eyes darting down to the blood pooling on Romano's mouth, and they just remained there... _fixed_ upon the red liquid. Was it that damn interesting? The taller man shifted his weight, bringing his hand up to Romano's face. Cautiously, but oh so, so tenderly ran his thumb along his bottom lip, wiping the blood away before falling back to his haunches and staring at the now red finger. His head tilted, much like that of a confused dog, as he inspected his appendage, turning it around so he could see every possible angle of it. It was... strange seeing someone so closely resembling Spain to act so... differently. And now that he thought about it, that bastard was dressed strangely too. His clothes looked old... as in this type of clothing hasn't been worn in over two hundred years, old...and the sleeves of this frock coat were littered with patches that did indeed match the colour of the cloth underneath, but were still very visible to the naked eye. Yet, the clothes were still very clean, lacking any kind of stains or dirt, but the thing that caught Romano's eye the most was the leather strap loosely tied around the man's neck, forming what looked like a _dog_ collar, although it lacked a loop to clip a leash to, or any type of metal, save for the clasp that kept the two ends together. The imposter didn't seem bothered by it in the least. _He_ was still utterly fascinated by the freaking blood on his thumb. Why was he unnerved by this guy so much again? Oh yeah. Now he remembered. The bastard looked like _Spain_ of all people, only in fancier clothing.

"H-Hey." Romano nervously spat, his eye twitching when the man ignored him. He gritted his teeth, pain welling up in his jaw from the immense pressure he was applying to them; that man _dared_ to disregard Romano, oh no. Oh _no no no no_. He didn't take that kind of shit from _anyone_. "Listen to me fucker!" The Italian snarled, using the tip of his shoe to shove the man off of his feet and onto his rump. Finally, that bastard looked up at Romano, his eyes wide with surprise, but it only lasted for a moment before he grinned again and allowed a jovial chortle to pour from his lips. Romano twitched again, an uncomfortable tightness welling up in his chest; he always cherished when Spain laughed like that, so carefree and happy. But... this wasn't Spain, and he _had_ to get that through the stubborn mind of his. Spain was gone, and wouldn't come back. Yet, Romano found himself gazing at this imposter, a small part of him hopeful... yearning for it to really be his former caretaker. Still, as a reflex, he attempted to flatten himself against the tree when the other man once again crawled up to him; both hands became pressed against the ground on either side of him and his face was so close, Romano could feel the giggles wafting against his cheeks. Romano growled, although his face softened with every minuscule detail he noticed about the man over him... He literally was an exact copy of Spain, his face at least, everything down from the slight smiling wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, to the faintest flakes of gold in his gorgeous emeralds. That false Spain... he was just so _close_ to the Italian, although now... he was more at peace with him being in such proximity. Something about him, now that he paused to think, calmed him from his earlier panic just as Spain always did when he was around Romano. Perhaps... This was only a dream, and within a few seconds he would awake back in the Spaniard's house, well, at least what used to be his home... alone and unwanted. Tears once again prickled at Romano's eyes, but this time, they broke free of the dam he fought so hard to construct. It hurt... so damn _much _to see the only one he truly loved and know it was only a lie. He swore if he ever found who was responsible for this... he would kill them; _murder_ them for trying to fuck with his head, and he would take all credit for mutilating their body.

"You're such a bastard, making me hurt like this." Romano croaked, not at all pleased with the way the man turned his head to the side, like some kind of fucking dog questioning what their owner had just said. He couldn't stand it anymore; he wanted to hurry up and wake from this damn _nightmare_, but before he did, he would be dammed if he didn't get something out of it. Without any kind of warning, Romano reached up to grab the bastard's cheeks and yanked his lips down on his own. The other man's breath hitched, his body freezing as Romano threaded his fingers through his hair in an attempt to draw him even closer. Apparently, that was beyond the zone of comfort for the other man, for he shoved himself away from Romano and quickly stood up with his hands covering his mouth, a deep red staining his tanned skin. Great. Even in a dream Romano wasn't allowed to have one of the few things he longed for, and he felt his heart rip as Spain's doppelganger ran off without a second glance. A few choking groans escaped Romano, along with more tears. He brought his thighs up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them, burying his head in his knees while allowing his emotions to take over his body once again. Damn the world. Why was it always trying to cause him so much pain? First the whole war that nearly killed his brother, leaving the younger man stuck in bed for months on end, then the stupid reconstruction idea, and now this! Romano cried out, not caring who saw or heard him... it was a fucking dream anyway. All a god dammed nightmare. Maybe, after some flash of mercy, he would wake up and continue his life as a fucking nation; fighting, killing, being sick because of someone else's idiotic government can't make any good choices. That shit was better than this anyway.

Someone walked up to him; Romano could tell by the crunching of the grass, although he didn't really give a damn at the moment. "_Parve puer, cur fleres?_" That voice… he knew it, but why was the bastard speaking in Latin? This dream was just getting even more idiotic by the minute. Romano glared up, tears still staining his eyes, so he probably seemed like a mess to the British man before him. God, sometimes he just wanted to punch that nancy-boy right in the face, from annoyance or since he kept Spain from him for so many months when he was a child, he didn't know nor did he care. Or maybe it was from the fact that the bastard looked like a prick with that burgundy velvet smoking jacket, fucking brown _ascot_, and the pocket watch of his that he kept glancing at.

"What the fuck do you want, England? Can't you see I'm busy?" Romano growled, getting even more pissed off when an utter look of confusion plastered itself on England's mug.

"Quid ais?" Shit, now he was playing the idiot card. Was Romano already not speaking _English!_ Groaning and wiping his eyes, Romano reached back into the corner of his mind, attempting to draw out the language that the little asshole was speaking. Luckily, being a nation and all, he was still fluent in any language he was forced to verbalize with on a daily basis, and since he had to speak it to his grandfather's people when he was around, and good time after, he knew the tongue very well.

"What are you doing here? This is a _dream_, and I sure as hell don't want you here. I've already had a bad enough day as it is." England's brow's furrowed, though his head tilted slightly to the left, once again, wordlessly questioning Romano.

"A _dream_? Little boy, I can assure you this is no dream." He paused, folding his arms while letting out a huff when he observed Romano's eyes twitching at his words. "And besides, I only came over here because Antonio pulled me here. His face was very red when he retrieved me, did you see what caused it?"

Wait… what! "A-A-Antonio?" Romano managed to stammer, completely stunned to hear that name come from England.

"Yes, this wonderful ball of…affection." He stated, taking a step to the side to reveal that fucking clone, squatting on the ground behind him; the man's eyes pierced his once again and a nervous smile spread across his lips, along with a faint blush. If Romano wasn't utterly baffled, he would've called it…cute, for a lack of a better word. "He came bounding over to where I was _peacefully_ resting and urged me to come over here. Usually, he only does that when he thinks he has upset someone… I apologize if he was overly friendly, or has offended you in any way. He has difficulty understanding the concept of personal boundaries, so I'm terribly sorry if there have been any misunderstandings."

Misunderstandings? That was the least of his fucking problems! First of all, that damn bastard's name was _Antonio_! Fucking _Antonio_; of all the names in the world, it just _had_ to be that one, and he was actually _friendly_ with England! What the hell! Secondly, that said bastard was _still_ staring at him, although his attention was broken when he cringed as England grumbled something at him. Thirdly, that fucking Briton kept referring to Romano as a _little boy_… Did he really look _that _young to the old bastard, and did he really not recognize him? Apparently, his mind loved to fuck with him, making it so those he met, and _knew_, didn't know him, and their relationships with other people completely change…just _peachy_. Stupid dreams. Romano looked over the two, a slight pressure in his heart when his eyes glanced over to Antonio; oh, the utter look of guilt that graced his face as England chewed him out for '_continuing to be too friendly with_ _strangers_', and other such nonsense… "Umm… hey…" Romano spoke, chewing on the corner of his lip while he thought of what to say… He just wanted England to stop chastising the squatting man, so he really didn't give much thought into actually forming a complete sentence. England halted, turning his eyes towards the Italian, expecting more to come from him. "He… he didn't offend me or anything… He just… looks like someone very dear to me, so I was surprised when I saw him, that's all. Don't yell at him, he didn't know." England's massive brows rose, but he seemed to believe his story.

"Well then, I'm glad this has been settled. Now, I must bid you farewell, _Mr. Dreamer._ Come, Antonio. It's starting to get cold, and it looks like it's about to snow." Oh he did not. Mr. Dreamer? Annoyance rose up in Romano's chest as the British man turned to leave, but quickly dissolved when he finally realized just how cold it really was. How the hell did he not notice it earlier! Romano shuddered, attempting to draw warmth from his thin jacket but the frigid air continued to soak his skin, even as he wrapped his body as close to itself as he could. Dammit. He hated the cold, he hated snow and now he was going to be stuck in it, alone… while it was steadily became darker, meaning it would be even _colder_. Sighing, he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to break down in tears that just seemed to have an endless supply. He would get through this… he could. He _had to_. He- "Now lad, it's going to be night soon. You need to go home, or you'll die out here in that strange clothing of yours. I doubt it could keep you very warm." Ugh. Even when speaking _Latin_, that fucker still had an obnoxious accent.

"What the hell do you care? I'm a complete stranger to you." The British man let out an irate huff, and crossed his arms.

"Look, normally I could care less what other people do, but this idiot over here won't leave until he sees you go home to your family." He snarled, jabbing his thumb at Antonio, who merely gazed at Romano with expectant eyes and a carefree grin. "The twit seems to have taken a liking to you, though I don't see why with that attitude and mouth of yours." Taken a liking to _him_, hmm? Romano sighed, deciding if this mess of a dream wouldn't end soon, then he would just have to go along with it until it did.

"I don't have a home or family, hell; I don't even know where the fuck I am, not that it really makes a difference." All he really knew was that he was really fucking tired, and just wanted to go back to sleep. Antonio jumped up at his words, turning his attention to England with his brows furrowed, and his lips tightly pressed together in a strange mix of a stern and pouty scowl. It was rather cute, in the Italian's opinion. He remembered when Spain would get that look… mostly when he wanted Romano to do something that would '_mean a lot to him'_ if he did it, like sleep in the same bed as him during a thunderstorm, or take a siesta with him.

_No… forget about him. He's gone._

"Don't try to play that look, Antonio. It won't work this time." Ah, so he denied the tomato bastard look-alike. Next would certainly come the irresistible pouty eyes… and they did, causing England to groan and cover his face with his gloved hand. "Why do I even… _Fine. _Just be quick about it." Oh how absolutely overjoyed the idiot was from England's growl, wasting no time at all bounding to Romano's side only to stop, and fretfully stare down at him. Romano scowled back, attempting to decipher the look in Antonio's eyes. "For the love of… He wants you to come home with us." That said scowl instantly was turned towards the Briton.

"Why the hell would I want to go with you?"

"Fine! Stay out here in the snow for all I care. Antonio, let's _go._" England barked, throwing his hands in the air, while turning his back and leaving the two. Antonio nervously gazed at the man walking away, before shifting it back and forth between him and Romano, all while anxiously rubbing his fingers together. Deciding; it isn't as fun as it looks, is it bastard? And the tea sucking prick just wasn't stopping… that is, until he reached what seemed to be some sort of stone path. He turned, looking back at the two, and if Romano knew him like he thought he did, the bastard would be tapping that pretty little foot of his in impatience.

"Just go to the damn limey. He'll only stand there and wait for your ass until you do, then chew you out for making him wait." Romano sighed, resting his head atop his crossed hand. "Don't worry about me. I'm tougher than I look." Ha, that was an understatement. Sure he could take care of himself, but _tough_? God, if dipshit America ever heard him say that, he'd never let him live it down… that ass. Apparently Antonio didn't believe him either. Without a word, he reached down and snatched Romano's wrist, tugging him up to a stand. "What the hell!" He screeched, stumbling and nearly falling back down when Antonio suddenly pulled him by the arm towards England. Romano attempted to escape his death grip, and even dug both of his heels into the dirt, only to be horrified by the fact he was making fucking _trenches_ in the ground as the other bastard trudged forward, not phased one tiny bit by the small resistance on the smaller man's part. _Shit, this fucker is just as strong as Spain, if not stronger!_

He scowled, glancing down at the rather large hand gripping his wrist… Were Spain's hands that big? No… they weren't quite _that_ bulky, but his fingers were just as nimble and, well, supple. Romano's eyes trailed up the man's arm, taking in just how _thick_ it was, even with what probably was a good layer or two of cloth under that stitched up coat. Damn, if it was pure muscle under there… he shuddered at the thought, quickly forcing his gaze across Antonio's broad shoulders and up to the mass of curls perched on his head. This Antonio seemed…_taller_ than the one he knew back home, and by a few inches at least. _Spain… _Ugh! Why did he keep thinking about that tomato bastard! The fucker was _gone_ and would _never_ come back. It was time to move on, dammit… But Romano didn't want to move on. A life without that sappy bastard, he just couldn't force himself to think of it…

Was that the reason he allowed himself to be so easily pulled over to England, even as that man scowled at him and Antonio? A small halfhearted chuckle left his lips; _yes_, perhaps it was.

"I see you _persuaded _the poor lad to come with us." England grumbled before letting out a sigh as they arrived a few moments later. Antonio hummed in acknowledgement, finally releasing the now throbbing wrist of the Italian, though it really didn't at all. "I imagine a proper introduction is called for." England stretched his hand out, staring directly into Romano's eyes. He considered swatting away the hand, but deep down, he knew this was a chance to start a new life, or dream life; he still hadn't decided if this was real, but nevertheless, there was no real use in souring the mood of the man he had a feeling he would be living with for a while. Romano forced a smile, attempting to look friendly as he took the English man's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Name's Arthur Kirkland. You've already met that cheeky bastard, Antonio, so I'm not introducing him to you again. It's a _pleasure_ to meet you, and to welcome you into my household." A crooked, but pleasant grin crossed Arthur's lips, and for some reason it filled Romano with a misplaced hope. Perhaps this wouldn't be nightmare after all. The Italian smiled, letting out a chuckle that hadn't been used in _years_.

"Lovino Vargas, and the pleasure's _all_ mine."


	3. Philosophy in a Tea Cup

**Hello again, and thanks for all the views, alerts and reviews. They make me happy~ Ah, and the rating may go up in the future, depending on what I decide to do.  
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**This chapter seems to be a little bit longer than the others... and it actually wasn't originally going to end where it did, but it kinda... just... did. Sorry.**

**And I wouldn't question the names of the chapters... I'm horrible with names.  
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><p>At the first glance of Arthur and Antonio's home, Romano was rather… disappointed. It positively looked <em>English<em>, but not as in _amg, is that a __**fucking **__castle!_, which he was expecting from the way Arthur flaunted around about how much money he had, and since that was what fucking _England_ lived in. Sure, it wasn't a complete disaster, it actually looked rather decent, but half-timbering mixed with stone just wasn't Romano's ideal way to decorate the outside of a home. Everything about that type of architecture reminded him of the potato bastard, but with the huge amount of windows that were evenly spread across the two stories walls; he decided to forgive the idiot who made the home. He did _love_ windows and sunlight after all. Other than that, the house and yard was somewhat pleasing. The home itself was neatly centred in a clearing of what looked to be pine, and the occasional leafless maple, or oak, and looked somewhat elegant with its starch white walls crossed with deep mahogany timber. Stretching out to the left was a medium sized garden, though with it being winter, the bushes lacked any real colour that flourished in the spring, and at least twenty or so feet to the right sat a small barn, whose gates led out to a small, empty pasture. Apparently they had some sort of livestock, at least Romano assumed, and he mentally confirmed it as his eyes slipped over the chicken house perched off in the distance.

"Well, this is our little home, but there is enough room for you. We won't have any guest rooms available tonight, since we're in such short notice of your stay so you'll have to sleep in either my or Antonio's room for the night. That is, unless you'd rather sleep in a cold room." Arthur said, unlocking the front doors, which were fixed with some kind of black iron that branched out in intricate swirls all over the maple finish. With the entrance pried open, he motioned for Romano step inside the foyer, which was barley lit by what remained of two candles in the brass sconces. Traces of light spewed out into the main lounge, glimmering off what little metal there was in the room and outlining what seemed to be some sort of furniture set nestled in front of a brick fireplace with glowing embers tucked away in its husk. To say the least, Romano found himself oddly comfortable in the dim shine of the room; it reminded him of his childhood, where the only source of light would be the candles burning on the walls in their holders, or the fire crackling in the hearth... back in the days before he had to constantly worry about the health of his country, before he spent most of his time alone... "Ah, it's a bit dark in here, isn't it? Antonio, go fetch some candles while I tend to the fire; it's going to be a cold night."

Great...Wherever this dream of his decided to take him, electricity and maybe even gas hadn't been invented yet... ugh. That meant he probably wouldn't have the joy of taking a hot bath that evening, nor would he easily be able to stay warm at night... also meaning he would have trouble falling asleep. Just fan-fucking-tastic. Romano sighed, hardly feeling the now coatless Antonio as he brushed past him in search for the beeswax candles. Somewhere off in to his right, Romano heard clattering and scraping of what seemed like loose dust just before little sparks floated up into his line of vision, each swirling around in a dance of life that created a mild flame at their feet. Arthur, seeming to not even notice the ballet before him, placed a thin piece of wood over the cinders, humming to himself while doing so. "There. That should last long enough to be out by dinner." Small pops echoed from his shoulders and neck when he rolled them in every such direction, but he paused as his jade eyes fell upon the Italian awkwardly standing behind the sofa. "Now there's no reason to stand over there, Lovino." Arthur grumbled, though his voice held an undertone of kindness that Romano never would've expected from the man, even as his gigantic brows furrowed and a grimace crossed his features. "Come over here and sit down." He motioned to the ancient looking couch, then to the matching chairs on either side of it, "We can have a quick chat before dinner."

Romano did as he was told, however he did so unhurriedly, his narrowed eyes never leaving Arthur, who was now leaning back on the couch, his face completely blank and facing towards the ceiling, and his arms were lazily spread across the back of the cushions. Light danced along the front of Arthur, flicking shadows here before reflecting against his somnolent eyes, which twitched to Romano when he sat down. They stared at each other for several moments, both scowl and unruffled gaze refusing to break, even as Antonio returned into the room with the candles clutched in his hands. The chocolate haired bastard hesitantly neared the two other men; his stare was trained on the Italian leaning against the right arm of the couch, but when he drew close enough to the sofa, Romano's eyes flicked over Antonio, subconsciously admiring how elegant the man looked in that navy pinstriped vest of his. He flinched at the sudden movement, nervously grinning as the brunet's scowl deepened. Without a word, he gave the candles to Arthur, while keeping one for himself, and grunted in thanks when he was presented a candle stick in return. The flame nestled comfortably in the fireplace cackled at the three silent men, using its twitching fingers to whirl light and shadows over their mismatched faces, only to the Italian's glare seem even more furious than it actually was.

Antonio's gape lingered on Romano's face for only a few brief moments before he suddenly blinked, and pivoted around to disappear in the dark corners of the house. "Well, that's interesting." Arthur chuckled, his head resting on the hand propped up on the back of the couch, even as his attention shifted from wherever Antonio had ventured, to Romano.

The Italian growled, while folding his arms and crossing his legs. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Arthur smirked, clearly amused. "Ah, just what he thinks about you. I find it humorous."

Romano grumbled something under his breath, his gaze transfixed on the fire crackling in the hearth before glaring at Arthur with a half-hearted sneer etched into lips. "The fucker didn't say anything. How the hell can you know that?"

With a tiny lopsided smile, the blond tapped at the flesh under the corner of his eye. "His eyes never lie." A befuddled look crossed Romano's scowl, electing a tired sigh from Arthur in return. "I've spent most of my life with the lad, and only a handful of times the git has graced me with his words..." He paused, taking a moment to grimace at the memories that fluttered into his mind. "However, most of those times weren't pleasant at all...mostly yelling... _Anyway, _as a result I had to learn how to read his emotions down to the smallest _twitch_ of his brows; otherwise I'd have no idea what the twat was really thinking." Romano's frown faltered, thousands of emotions whirling around in his head, even as he noticed a soothing light coming from another room along with a voice he would be able to recognize without hesitation. It lacked the same clarity that he was accustomed to, but there was another something replacing it... A sort of gentle huskiness that added to its beauty in a strange way. Sighing, the Italian uncrossed his legs and rested his head on the back of the sofa, listening to the melody.

_So he __**can **__talk...He's singing...Bastard must be cooking... Spain always sung whenever he prepared meals..._ At least that the trait the two men shared, but Romano couldn't get over how he couldn't read anything from the bastard's face, unlike Spain, who was literally open book to him... and in all honesty, he was a bit jealous of Arthur's ability. "So... why won't he talk to you?" Romano mumbled, straining his eyes to attempt to catch a glimpse of Antonio in the engulfing darkness behind him, although his ears could clearly make out the words that spilled from his lips; whatever he was humming in that melodious tone of his, it wasn't in Latin, and Romano frowned in an effort to name the language.

Arthur yawned, rolling his neck to loosen what pain there might have been sparking along his spine. "The reason that prat doesn't talk to me? Ah, well, Antonio isn't exactly too _fond _of me, and I to him, you see. Ever since we first met, we haven't liked one another; we fought, we argued, we nearly killed each other once, but over the years we learned to tolerate the other." He mused, absentmindedly scratching that the cloth still wrapped around his neck, and letting another lethargic yawn escape from his mouth before quietly pardoning his rudeness. Sombreness over took Romano as he focused his eyes on his overlapped hands; his face no longer held his usual scowl; instead it was blank and unblinking. Antonio didn't talk to Arthur because he didn't _like _him... come to think of it, he hadn't said anything to the Italian in the hours that he had been in his presence. Not one thing.

"...Is that the reason that he hasn't talked to me too?" He would understand why... Many people were put off from his attitude, especially after they met his _oh so wonderful_ little brother. Romano just wasn't cute, or dumb enough to even grace Feliciano's shadow in their opinion.

"What? Where did you get that ridiculous idea from?" Arthur sharply retorted, straightening himself so one of his legs was neatly folded on the couch, and his entire front was facing Romano. "Antonio and I have this rivalry _thing_ going on, and he's too stupid to hate people right as he meets them."

"But you said that he hated yo-"

"Yes, I did, but the reason is because..." Arthur hesitated, cocking his head to the side and grinning, certainly pleased with himself, "I insulted those vegetable... fruit _things_ he adores so much the moment I saw the lad... and I utterly _destroyed_ him in a fight a few years later. _But_, I can assure you that he doesn't hate you. In fact, the twit is absolutely besotted with you, dearest Lovino; he's just a little frightened to interact with you."

"F-frightened?" Romano stammered, unsure if he wanted to look into Arthur's eyes or not; he was quite comfortable with staring at his twiddling thumbs. More of Antonio's voice engulfed the Italian's ears, tearing at some of the strings in his heart, and oh, how he wanted to hear that voice directed towards him. Telling him how 'cute' he was, how much he cared for him, enthusing about how lovely tomatoes were, or simply cursing England to the ends of the earth; he didn't care. Romano sighed again, attempting to shake out the feelings welling in his chest and the tears pooling behind his eyes. They were cold... and they hurt.

"Yes, son, and the reason is because you're so _different _from what he's used to." Olive eyes met jade as Romano allowed Arthur to rest a hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to console him. A light chuckle purred in the straw-haired man's throat. "He's just not used to seeing someone who frowns so much as you do, since it makes it harder to tell what your real intentions are when you speak. That in itself makes him nervous around you, and in turn, makes him reluctant to share his words." Romano felt something wet run down his, but he ignored it, even as Arthur took notice of it. "Why are you crying, Lovino?" He raised his fingers, as if his paternal side decided to make an appearance, in an attempt to wipe away the tears.

Romano grunted in annoyance, swatting away Arthur's hand before rubbing at his face with his palm. What the hell was with all of this emotion reading crap? It was really starting to get on Romano's nerves, and not because he did a shit job at telling what other people were thinking...Nope. Not at all. "Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. I'm fine...and don't call me _son._ I'm older than I look." _Years older than you, bastard._

The blond erupted into a deep chuckle, changing positions and snuggling his back closer into the cushions of the couch in an attempt to get comfortable. "Aren't we all, lad. Aren't we all..." His green stare then turned to the fireplace, and soon after, Romano's joined it. Everything was... strange. He actually wasn't having a horrid time with the England look-alike, and he slightly wondered if it would be possible to interact the same way with the tea sucking nation...but only a little. Hell, probably as they were getting nice and situated with each other, that fat ass America would bust in through some door like a fucking bull on crack and ruin the pleasant chat they would be having... if it would even get that far. Either that, or France would be brought up, and the blond bastard would get all pissy and throw him out...but it was still just a thought.

Both of the men then remained silent for several minutes, simply enjoying each other's company and the warmth that finally seeped into their once frigid clothing, bringing up a new issue that Romano failed to think of. _If_ this really wasn't a dream, which he was seriously starting to doubt considering how fucking _long_ and _realistic_ it had been, he would need new, _warmer_ clothes... and he was sure he didn't have the correct currency for this place, wherever it was. God, this was just too much. Romano let out a huff, and rolled his head onto the back of the sofa, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. He could still hear Antonio singing, his melody finding a way to slither and twist in his mind, unearthing several strange emotions as he slowly began to recognize the tune as it reached the refrain; it was a gentle, passionate hymn, each note filled with a special blend of love and care..._Spain_... he created that song specially for Romano when he was still under his care and would always tenderly coo it to the child, while softly running his fingers through his hair, before he fell asleep. Whatever language Antonio was chanting it in, it was... soothing...beautiful and Romano found a deep pleasure in the way the consonants simply flicked off of the emerald eyed man's tongue, while the vowels were smoothly caressed by his breath.

"It's a beautiful language, Old Speak." Arthur hummed, idly combing his fingers through his locks of sandy hair. "Nobody remembers how to speak it, save for the songs that are still passed down, though there aren't any translations for them. No one even remembers its original name." Romano quietly grunted a noise of response, far too immersed in the tune and too tired to think of a proper reply, but thankfully Arthur accepted it and remained hushed afterwards. Within moments of the blissful near silence, Romano found himself dozing off, but never fully fell into the world of dreams. Everything became fuzzy as he drifted between the line of alertness and sleep, noises garbled into a lethargic mess of confusion, and his body tingled as it attempted to stay awake, twitching every now and then.

Something hard suddenly gripped Romano's shoulder, lightly shaking it in an attempt to get his attention, but the Italian wasn't having any of that; he swatted it away with the back of his hand, grumbling to himself in his native tongue before curling around the arm of the couch. Whoever was behind him huffed and then became quiet, causing Romano to assume that they had left. He sighed, glad that he might get some more rest, yet before he could comprehend what was happening, he was lifted off of his makeshift bed and thrown over someone's shoulder. "H-hey! What the hell, put me down bastard!" Romano slurred, attempting to escape the larger man's tense grasp, only to run his face into a mop of dark curls that smelled heavily of soil and sweat, not that it really disgusted the Italian; after all, living with a certain Spaniard, who always decided after a hard day's work in his tomato garden to throttle Romano with fucking hugs, made him quite accustomed to the earthy scent. "Bastard, put me down!" He grumbled, though he was putting up less of a fight than he thought he should've been. He was too distracted by the fact that Antonio's hair was still tickling his nose...not that he was enjoying it or anything. Nope. Not at _all._ Romano suddenly sneezed, flailing his arms until he found his fingers tightly grasp the back of Antonio's shirt in an attempt to not fall off his shoulder. Antonio tensed under Romano's touch, electing a tiny frigid tremor that coursed through the Italian's body, and a frown that was weaker than most of his normal ones. "You don't have to be scared of me...y'know." He grumbled, relaxing his fingers and allowing them to go limp. Antonio remained silent, even as he entered the dimly lit dining room and gently positioned Romano back on the wooden floor beside an intricately carved chair. Arthur was situated on a replica beside it, at the head of the overly long table with a silver plate of food in front of him, although it hadn't been touched yet. Three chairs, in fact, had identical servings before them, along with goblets filled to the brim with some sort of drink, most likely alcoholic.

Antonio circled around the table, taking his seat by the blond man, keeping his hands in his lap until Romano took his cue and arranged himself in the chair across from the brunet. Arthur grumbled, narrowing his eyes in impatience at Antonio, as if saying_ it was about damn time. "_Now that we're all _here_, let's eat." Romano glared down at the food before him, honestly not knowing if it was truly edible...It didn't look bad, no, not at all. It just seemed to be some kind of sliced meat that he couldn't name right at that moment; it could have been just the way that it was cooked. An assortment of peas, chopped carrots and corn was piled beside the meat, and above that was a thin slice of bread and... ugh. Fucking segmented _potatoes_ of all things. God...why? _Why_ did he get stuck in a world where he would probably have to eat those dirty brown things on a daily basis? They were horribly starchy, and gross, and reminded him of that damn potato licker. He would've started to cry, if it wasn't for the expectant stare Antonio was giving him as he at his own food...Perhaps... this bastard could actually _cook_, in spite of being raised by a bunch of Tea bastards. With nothing to lose, well... maybe except for his sense of taste, Romano took the silver fork in his fingers, allowing them to gently slide over the smooth surface, before piercing a slice of the meat. Cautiously, as anyone should be of English food, no matter _who_ cooks it, he brought the meat to his lips, and took a bite, tenderly chewing the morsel as the flavours slithered over his tongue.

It... really wasn't that bad. Though there weren't many, the spices that bastard used flowed perfectly with the boar, along with the distinct fire-licked savour that Romano scarcely had the opportunity to enjoy to its fullest; usually, some idiot ended up scorching the poor thing to a crisp, leaving it inedible, and revolting. He continued to devour his food, in the most elegant way of course, since there would be no way that English fucker would show him up when it came to manners, pausing to meet the persistent and eager watch of Antonio. That said bastard quickly turned his eyes towards his plate once Romano scowled at him. _If anything, __**that**__ expression is the same as Spain's_. "Idiot." He grumbled, picking at the potatoes on his plate in an attempt to decide if he really should suffer through their unpleasantness, "The food isn't too bad... I guess." Romano returned his attention to his food, though he still watched the man across from him through his bangs. Antonio's shoulders visibly loosened and sunk once he thought the Italian wasn't scowling at _him_ anymore, and rather just everything else, much to both Romano and Arthur's amusement.

The three remained silent as they ate, focusing on their food and acting as well mannered as possible, rather than each other; Romano assumed that this would be a normal occurrence with the two, though his thoughts refused to quell themselves there. If Antonio really loathed Arthur so much, why didn't he just move out? That would be the most logical solution. Oh well, it really wasn't any of his business, was it? "So Lovino, where are you from?" Arthur finally spoke. Romano looked up to meet his soft gaze, right in the midst of eating those starchy, tasteless abominations. Great, what would he tell the guy? _Oh~ I'm from Italy!~_...That just wouldn't work; Italy probably didn't even exist here...

_Shit_, _now that Tomato bastard is looking at me too... ugh what the hell did I do to get myself into this?_ Fidgeting under the two men's expectant watches, Romano's mind wiped itself clean of any thoughts, yet words still forced themselves out of his mouth as his brows furrowed into their usual scowl. "I... I can't remember." _Dammit, who the hell would believe that shit, what the hell was I thinking!And these bastards can fucking __**see**__ if I'm lying or not!_

They seemed... surprised, to say the least. Antonio glanced at Arthur, who returned the look before casting their eyes back on Romano. "What can you remember?"

_Really? They actually believed that! _"Only my little brother and some of my...acquaintances... but that's it."

"No geography, history, or differences between the races?"

_Races? The hell? _"No. I don't remember any of that." Arthur stared at Romano, a calculating twinge in his eyes, while Antonio just seemed to be overly worried... or scared... or nervous. Hell, Romano couldn't tell which.

The sandy haired man leaned back in his chair, as he crossed his arms, his lingering eyes never leaving the Italian before him. A small smile broke his stern features. "Well, it's very fortunate that we happened upon you, isn't it?"

"I guess it is." Romano retorted, wrapping his fingers around his goblet and bringing it to his lips, although he didn't take a sip quite yet; the look that had suddenly appeared on Arthur's face made him reconsider drinking.

"No worries, I'll teach you all about the geography and history of the beautiful country of Gilana, and perhaps a bit from that backwater hellhole labelled Ispiahna." He paused, sending a simper in Antonio's direction, only to receive an irritated glare in return from the brunet. "And maybe this twat can teach you about the races, once he stops being a scared little nancy-boy." Antonio scowled, allowing the tip of his right shoe to 'accidently' slam itself into Arthur's shin, promptly eliciting a slur of profanities to spew from the blonde's mouth as he clutched his leg. A chuckle purred from Romano's lips, before he took a sip of his drink, humming in bliss when it sloshed over his tongue.

_Perry..._ _Ah~ E' molto buono. _

Once Antonio and Arthur finished with their little spat, the blond collected the now empty plates, telling the other two men that he would wash them, and that they should be heading to bed; apparently some of their friends would be there in the morning, and he didn't want to have to deal with them alone. He also stated, much to Antonio's distress, that Romano would be sleeping with the said brunet since he had a larger bed than he, and his room would be much warmer. "You better not hog all the damn blankets, bastard." Romano grumbled as he followed Antonio up the stairs, surprised he didn't tumble down them since the only source of light they had was from the candle in the larger man's hand. He didn't respond to Romano, causing another chilly pang to erupt in his body. _Don't be so nervous around me bastard... _"G-god, it's cold up here..." Romano murmured once they reached the top of the stares, though he was still met with silence. He glanced around the small room, noting the five handles that glimmered against the light of Antonio's candle. They took the door directly in front of the staircase.

The room was... pitch black. Romano still couldn't see anything, though it was indeed warmer than the previous room, but only by a little. As Antonio moved forward, a queen-sized four-post bed became illuminated by the candle; Brilliant dark gold sheets loosely twisted around the columns reaching towards the ceiling, pooling in the floor by of the oak bed posts, matching plump pillows were perched at the headboard, and the mattress was adorned with gorgeous scarlet cloth, each embroidered with silver thread to form intricate patterns that only a master tailor could manage to produce. In all honesty, Romano would've bet his entire wardrobe of fucking Armani and Prada that the bed set had cost a fortune. Antonio gingerly placed the candlestick on the bedside table, turning his gaze towards the Italian still standing at the entryway, and still staring at his bed like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Romano's eyes flicked up at Antonio, a sneer forming on his lips. "What the hell are you looking at?" Still with no reply, he fiddled with the buttons on his vest, attempting to unfold them though his eyes constantly found themselves drifting towards Romano... who remained glaring at him through the entire process. "Why the hell are you still looking at me, bastard?" He grew impatient, crossing his arms awaiting an answer. Antonio's brows knotted together, and he opened his mouth but anxiety formed a chokehold on his body, suffocating his thoughts before they could make their way to his lips. He jammed his eyes shut, jerking his head towards the floor in shame.

A growl ripped its way from Romano's throat; so that bastard was still going to just be a fucking wimp and not talk to him, huh? That's it. No more. Romano was fucking _tired_ of this shit, and it was time the bastard learned that, and if it was going to be through aggression, so be it. He silently made his way up to Antonio, not caring that the idiot hadn't noticed that he was literally an inch from him when he halted his feet, but when he did finally realise Romano's closeness, he nearly jumped out of his skin, only to lose his balance and fall back on to the bed. Romano glared down at him, his more _violent_ side threatening to tear through the loosely stitched threads that normally held it back. "Listen to be, you stupid fuck. _I_ can't do that whole emotion reading shit like you bastards can." He growled, leaning closer when Antonio lifted himself up on his elbows. Romano jabbed his finger into the middle of the man's chest, not caring when his winced at the strength an angry Italian could muster. "You have to fucking _talk_ to me, idiot." He wrapped his fingers around the leather collar straped to Antonio's neck, jerking him up so their faces were only a centimetre or two apart. "Do you even know what it's like to say something and n-not have anyone say a-a-anything b-back!" Romano's voice grew a tad bit louder as he chewed his words, a pain creeping its way into his chest. Antonio seemed so _afraid_ of him... and it killed Romano to see _him _like that. His throat burned, tightening with every shallow breath that forced its way from his lungs, and the drumming of his heart blotted out his vision with the cold tears forming with every agonizing beat.

The candle flickered behind them, casting them in a faint ginger glow, though the moonlight caressed Antonio's face with its tender fingers, illuminating the vividness of his emerald eyes and the red splotches staining his cheeks. Romano stared at him for a moment, searching in those stunning orbs for something he _knew_ he would never unearth, no matter how hard he tried. "It's not fair." Romano whispered, gently pushing Antonio so his back was against the mattress as he crawled atop him, and carefully allowed his body to press against the man's chest, while keeping his arms by his head; he aligned his nose so it was touching the tip of the brunet's, not at all amused how Antonio's body tensed up by the motion. Their eyes met, fretful green against half-lidded olive, each trying to see past the word barrier that constructed a wall between the two. Romano's thumb softly brushed against Antonio's cheek, educing a slight twitch from the man, and eventually a shuddered breath as the rest of his fingers tenderly caressed a small stretch of skin behind his ear. "You... look so m-much like _h-him._..but you're...you're _not_." Tears slipped out of his eyes, landing right below Antonio's. Why didn't the bastard do anything? Romano knew very well that he had the strength to push him off, but why hadn't he? Why? _**Why**__?_ The fucker didn't do anything except fucking twitch and stare at him with those painful emeralds of his...and...if he didn't do anything soon, Romano just didn't know if he would be able to control himself.

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><p>"Where is he."<p>

"Wh-what?"

"Where the hell is he!"

"What! Who?"

"Don't give me that _who_ shit! Romano, where the hell is _Romano_!"

"Wha-"

"Italy called me saying he couldn't find his brother, and the only reason he wouldn't be able to find him is if he wasn't on this damn planet anymore! He was on the verge of a meltdown!"

"And you're assuming that I have something to do with it! You _git_, why would I do anything to that sodding brat!"

"Don't you _DARE_ call him a brat, and _you _are the only person who can make people disappear like that, so find him!"


	4. Empty Smile

**Sorry this chapter is so short, but there will be a few like this one every now and then**.

**They just help move the plot along and confuse people.**

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><p>"Who the hell does that bastard think he is, making me do this nonsense?" England grumbled, storming through his Victorian mansion in the late evening. The sun had already set, and he was ready for bed, but <em>no.<em> He couldn't so much as rest with all of those damn ingrates in his home. It hadn't even been a full ten hours since the world meeting, before that disgraceful Southern Italian had disappeared, leaving his brother in an overly panicked state, thus hurling the weather over Italy into a whirlwind of chaos, as if the rest of the Europe wasn't already undergoing a string of abrupt blizzards and tempests. And who did the world blame for his disorder? England, of course, when in fact he had absolutely _nothing_ to do with it, but once he found the fool who was, oh~ they would be in so much pain, they would _beg_ for an early death.

England jerked open the doors to his cellar, a fierce scowl perched on his lips as he felt the wood splinter under his fingers. Perfect. Now he would have to replace the bloody doors too, along with anything else that the insufferable bastard had destroyed in his distraught fury. _He_ was supposed to be gone and out of the Englishman's hair, but those unreliable, negligent humans made last minute changes to their plans... once again. A string of curses spat out of England's mouth as he stomped down the rickety stairs, just daring any of them to break under his weight. Why was he even doing this for that inconsiderate, violent, two-faced bastard! He knew very well that England could overpower him and beat him within an inch of his life, but did that stop him? No. He still became overly frustrated, to the point where he picked up one of England's priceless vases in his study and hurled it at his head, though he missed and shattered it into the wall instead. That vase held his prized rose he received as a gift from a certain _idiot _who actually remembered his birthday for once, but thankfully, he was able to rescue the flower and move it to the safety of his bedroom.

England's cellar offered a pleasant silence as a welcoming introduction, although it was brushed away once he began to tug at the cloth on the stone floor, revealing pentagram crudely drawn with a mystical, homemade chalk that would never wash off with conventional cleaners. Flame flickered to life on the candles carefully placed throughout the room with the raise to England's hand. He smiled, pleased with the eerie glow they produced, and how the drawing pulsated with a lilac radiance, beckoning him to manipulate it how he saw fit. Humming a tune that just always seemed to fit whenever he practiced magic, England pulled an ancient book from its home in the rickety old shelf and gently blew the small film of dust that had collected on it. Oh how this room calmed him so, allowing him to actually think of what he was going to do.

"Ah~ let's see here now. Which spell, oh which spell shall I choose?" England heard shouting upstairs, followed by a thump and then softer thuds, each moving to a new location. He sighed; of course, the first thing he would do would be look for that blasted Italian, just so those wankers up in his lounge would leave him the hell alone about it, and depart his home more peacefully than they arrived. Opening the book with a single flick of his wrist, he filed through the pages. _Curses, demonology, enchantments, skip this...that...and ha! Location spells._ England allowed his hand to hover over the circle, relishing the tingles and sharp cracks that resonated through the bones in his fingers. Oh how he missed that wonderful sensation, sheer _power_ coursing though his veins that only he and a few others could skilfully control without many spell backlashes. A forbidden tongue poured from his mouth, the words echoing dangerously against the stone walls. Despite the stillness of the air in the cellar, the candles flickered as if caressed by a harsh breeze, welling up in themselves, and crackled with the language of the damned before each glow extinguished itself together with the others.

Blackness engulfed the stone room, and England's fingers twitched. Did he do something wrong? No. Impossible. "M-M-Mr. England?" a minute, ailing voice called from the top of the stairs. "I-I-It's dark." England sighed, making his way to the younger man.

"Over here Italy. Be careful, now. I don't want you to fall and get hurt." _You've already been through enough as it is._ Somehow, despite the man despicable clumsiness, he was able to step down the stairs without falling but he still managed to run straight into England. He had to catch the nation before he fell, noticing how light the man seemed. "Poor lad, you're worse off than anyone knew, aren't you?"

"W-what? N-no! I'm fine!" Italy stammered, taking shaky steps in the direction England was leading him. Once they reached the circle again, the blond stilled himself, allowing Italy to stand beside him on his own. "So.. um" Italy continued, and England couldn't help but to pity the man; As sick as the poor boy was, and as terrified as he was of the green eyed nation, he still mustered the courage, and strength to drag himself to his house and request aid in finding his brother, knowing England wasn't particularly fond of Romano. He had to at least give the lad the respect he deserved "W-w-hy are we in the d-dark?"

England chuckled. "Ah, well you see I was casting a location spell, to find that brother of yours, and...It didn't work." He could tell those large, innocent eyes were staring peering through the darkness, straight at his face, and god, how it unnerved him. He didn't even need his own sight to feel it.

"Um... Mr. Spell..." Italy whispered hopefully, clutching his hands together over his chest. "C-can you find my _fratello...P-per favore?_" Oh, bless the poor child. He really thought that _asking_ a spell to find his brother would actually work... innocence... yes; the lad was literally made of innocence. Such a blessing he had.

"Italy, it simply doesn't work like that."

"I-I know." Italy sniffed, not even trying to hold back his tears. "I j-j-just want to see my _f-f-fratello._" England sighed, gently patting the Italian.

"Well...here. I'll try the spell again, okay?" The brunet nodded, keeping his hands clutched together over his mouthing some kind of silent prayer. An unfamiliar and frightening language spilled off of England's mouth like molten fire, his voice becoming louder with each word. A sudden strange gust whirled under England, followed by a lavender glow at the edge of his feet. It began as a mere pinpoint, and Italy fixed his eyes on it, struggling to see what was going on though when the light began to spread into the rest of the star, he took a step back... just in case he needed to run away from anything scary that might pop out of the glow.

Just as quickly as the pentagram lit up, the illumination faded out from the corners and concentrated itself in the centre of the drawing, forming a small ball that lifted itself in the air. Italy stared at the light, captivated with the deep blue mist simply fell off of the orb, showering the floor with sparks and glimmers that flickered off of the tongues of the vapour. England reached forward, tapping the orb with the tip of his finger, and it burst into a hundred separate globs, some larger, some smaller, each sparkling a different shade and hue. Italy gasped, gazing in wonder at the many colourful spheres as they splayed their light against his face, allowing the Briton to see it clearly for the first time in many months...and he almost wished it was still pitch black, or for Italy to have an overly muscular nation to hide his face behind. The poor boy's eyes were swollen and red from tears, his cheekbones sharp and hollow, due to the current state of his country no less, but those amber irises of his, oh how they pained England to see. Such sadness radiated from those broken windows... it wasn't much of a surprise why he kept them tightly sealed most of his life. "Will these... things h-help find my _fratello_?" He questioned, his gaze shifting between the lights.

England softly smiled, raising his hand and flicking his wrist. The orbs twisted in the air, spinning around the two as if they were moons encircling the nations, fading in and out with every twitch of the man's fingers, much like someone using a hologram to search the galaxy for a star. Italy, the child at heart he was, gasped every time the orbs shifted, and when the passed through him. "Here." England sighed, allowing a bright orange globe to rest in front of the two, swishing the others away with his hand, leaving the sunny glow as the only light in the room. "South Italy is here, universe H791." _Bloody hell. It __**had**__ to be that one._

"C-can we get h-him?" There was a small glimmer of hope twinkling in his voice, but England could only sigh at Italy's request.

"No... Not yet. It will take three months to get a firm connection to that universe, and even then, it will leave us a small window of time to work with." Italy remained quiet, deeply staring into the floating orb as if he was contemplating some sort of plan.

"Can we _see _into the u-universe?" Such a caring little brother he was, even though he probably knew he would be a lot better off without that brat.

"Of course, Italy. Though, he won't know were watching him." England assured, swirling his finger over the top of the light, before flicking his wrist towards the ceiling. The orb shimmered, swelling up to the size and shape of a large mirror before hollowing out its centre to a black, glossy finish, reflecting Italy and England's face. It shuddered, before producing an image before the two.

"It's _fratello_!" The Italian gasped, reaching up to allow his hand to touch the picture of his brother sleeping alone on an old looking sofa. He looked... happier than he did at the meeting, but not by much.

"Well it seems he's found somewhere to stay. That's good." England mused, sorry for the poor bastard who had to put up with the rude little git.

"Do...do you think... he'll be happier there?" Italy whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on his slumbering brother. England's brows disappeared behind his blond locks.

"Why do you ask?"

Italy fiddled with his fingers, an expression of concern etched into his face. "Well... W-with all the thing g-g-going on right now... and with...no...no...I-I don't need to see anymore. I know that he's s-safe."

"Any time you want, I can do this again. Just ask." England hummed, waving his hand over the orb and shrinking it back down to its original size.

"Okay...but can we just k-keep it between us?"

England was surprised by the nation's request but once he thought about the circumstances, he understood why the man asked such a thing and agreed to it; the blond turned, ready to escort the brunet out of his basement when Italy spoke once more. "Um... Mr. England?"

"Yes, lad?"

"I don't want _fratello_ to come back."

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><p><strong>Note- This chapter happens during chapter 3, just so it doesn't confuse people more than it should.<strong>


	5. In the Early Morning Light

**After this chaper will be a time skip**...

**Anyway, thanks for reading, and enjoy~**

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><p>Damn that fucker. Damn him, his appearance, his voice, damn everything about the fucking bastard. Of all the people in this world to find him, it just <em>had<em> to be Antonio.

Romano slowly blinked, gently gazing down at the man whose nose was touching his own... oh how his heart absolutely hammered against his chest, despite the rest of his body having the same consistency as a statue out in the middle of a park, but Romano failed to notice the cold tremors coursing though the taller man's flesh. He was far too busy staring into those marvelous green depths that Antonio called eyes, finding his clutches over his mentality becoming looser, and looser. "I'm such an idiot..." Romano whispered, slightly tilting his head. "...to think..._Spain_..." his breath tickled Antonio's lips, but the man remained static, his lungs stilling as Romano firmly pressed their mouths together. There was... _nothing _in response from Antonio. No passion. No lust. No _love_, like there had been the one and only time with Spain. It was like he was kissing a dead body.

The dam bottling up Romano's emotions finally shattered, spewing tears, choking sobs, and pathetic quakes from its hold, and once again, Antonio did absolutely nothing other than become overly red. "I hate this!" Romano wailed between sobs, ferociously twisting his fingers in the cloth of Antonio's vest, and laying his head in the crook of his neck, just as he did when Spain died. "I hate this...make it...stop." He whined, not caring that his tears where creating a wet spot on the covers below him, he just wanted to be held, to be coddled. He wanted Spain, not this unemotional bastard that lay underneath him...silent and uncaring. He wanted the bastard to annoy him until Romano punched him for being a little shit; he wanted to be showered in hugs and gifts, he wanted _his_ Antonio. Not this. Never this.

And that bastard would never understand.

Without making so much as a whimper, Antonio used his arms to slide back out from under Romano, and threw himself over the side of the bed, back into the darkness of the room. Romano heard a nearby door open and slam, followed by a slur of gasps, whines, and what sounded like prayers...but he didn't care. He buried his face into the mattress, tearing his fingers into the crimson sheets and forced out a shriek that had welled and twisted inside of him the entire day. Romano screamed... and screamed, exhausting himself, and running his voice dry. His throat ached, his eyes stung, and he curled into a ball on his side, attempting to calm the jerking of his muscles every time he hiccuped, or gasped for breath. His lungs ached, and couldn't retain air, while his body refused to move, sending the Italian into a panic. _What the hell... Why can't I move?_ The muscles in his stomach lurched, screaming for air as pain tingled up his fingers to his elbows like an unwatched wildfire. Romano somewhat calmed once he realized the source of his suffering. _Riots... fires in my country. Sicily...__Calabria.__ What the hell are those mafia bastards doing without me over there?_

Tears continued to leak from his lids, dripping off his nose and staining the blood red sheets, well after his voice refused to work despite the coughs and snivels that racked his lungs once he was able to breathe again. The moonlight streaming in from the bland curtains mocked him, rearing its ugly head as it cackled at him. _He'll never love you like __**he**__ did; all of your tears are in vain, pathetic nation. You're alone in this world, just like you were in Italy. _Romano coiled up tighter, cupping his aching hands around his face, shivering as the chilly night air engulfed him. That fucker on the moon was right... He was alone... fucking alone, no matter where he went.

There was a shuffle in the darkness, but Romano did nothing to see what it was; he could barely move his head as it was and he was once more on the verge of passing out. The bed dipped down beside Romano's back, slowly, as if whoever it was thought he would lash out at them. A hand warily grasped his shoulder. Romano didn't fight as it pulled him flat on his back. "A-Antonio..." He groaned, the green-eyed brunet barely managing to be filtered through his tears, lowered lids and lashes. They stared at each other, neither saying a word, although the taller brunet's face held an undeniable gleam of concern, followed by annoyance. "I'm not... moving, fucker." He grumbled, before sniffing. Antonio sighed, shifting his weight so he could easily bend over Romano without tumbling on him, and brought his hands up to the lone button holding together the Italian's jacket. "What are... you doing... bast..ard?" He exhaled as those nimble fingers unclasped the button and worked their way down to the shirt tucked in his jeans, although they refrained from touching Romano's body unless absolutely necessary. Pinching around the crumpled ridges of the Italian's shirt, Antonio gingerly slipped it out from the hold of the jeans and opened the shirt from the bottom.

Romano's body clinched every time those lissom fingers brushed over his skin, cursing under his breath at every tingle, even more so when the frigid air surged over his exposed flesh. He watched through exhausted eyes as Antonio made quick work of his tie, musing to himself when he felt them quiver every time his jagged breath washed over that sun kissed skin of his, and when the bastard gaped at all of the scars streaking his chest and belly. One in particular caught his attention, the faded pale cross stretching across a patch of ugly red flesh, directly atop his heart. "What, have you never seen a fucking scar before?" He growled, attempting to make his face bend into a scowl, but only a tiny frown was produced on his lips, even as that idiot grazed the mark with his fingers. A whine purred in Antonio's throat. Was he...saddened by the fact Romano's body was covered by those scars, by his _history_? Antonio turned his stare to Romano's eyes, trying to pry past the crumbling façade he had constructed, and delve deeper into his feelings, desperately attempting to understand the man. The Italian sighed, turning his face away from the man. "I've been... in a lot of fights..." _To protect my fratellino._ He added in his mind, thinking of how many of those scars should've been his brother's, but were imprinted upon his body instead. Did Feliciano even have scars? ...Most likely, he didn't, unlike the other nations. He was far too precious to Romano for him to allow something so _horrible_ to blemish his porcelain skin.

Antonio's hands lingered on the crossed scar momentarily, before he shifted his weight once more, throwing his leg over Romano's waist to straddle him. He glared up at the green-eyed bastard, growls vibrating from his lips. "What the hell do you think you're doing, bastard?" Clutching his shoulders with gentle fingers, Antonio lifted Romano to a sitting position, but the Italian's strength was still sapped, and as a result, ended up slumping on the brunet's chest instead, with his head tucked under Antonio's chin. Romano could still hear that bastard's heart pound like a fucking jackhammer behind his ribs, and feel those hands of his tremble as they slid the clothing off of his body. He was so gentle with the Italian, treating his skin as if it would break under the slightest pressure or wrong move, but a little pinch in Romano's heart knew that it wasn't from any type of affection. Whatever Antonio was planning, it wasn't from admiration.

Using his hand to carefully push Romano back far enough so he wasn't leaning on him, Antonio held him steady, using his other hand to toss his shirt and jacket into the corner of the room, beside a basket holding laundry. Then, he grabbed a cloth he had laid on the bed, and tenderly pulled it over Romano's head. The Italian stared down at the night shirt that he now adorned, noticing how much of the cloth pooled down at his waist, and how long the sleeves were, even after Antonio pulled his arms through them. _He... was changing my clothes...but why?_ Romano contemplated, hardly noticing as Antonio laid him flat against the bed. He _did_ feel when the bastard started to unzip and unbutton his pants, pulling them down his hips; Romano's entire face instantly burned a bright red. "What the _fuck_ bastard!" He screeched, pushing Antonio off of him, and onto the floor below. He could hear Arthur yell something from downstairs, but currently, he didn't give a shit. Romano was too busy scowling at Antonio, trying to decide if he was going to kill the fucker or not.

Antonio stared right back at him, his lips pursed into a mix between an aggravated frown and pout, even as he grabbed Romano's feet, and untied his shoes. "Bastard! What the hell are you doing!" He snarled, cringing when Antonio's fingers brushed against his ankle. Damn, how did he not notice the bruise earlier? At least it didn't hurt when he walked, but it still throbbed with pain no matter how gently that bastard pulled the socks off his feet. He was getting tired of his fucker stripping him, and not answering his questions; as such, once Antonio had removed his left sock, he buried his toes in the brunet's neck, receiving a glare in return. Something in Romano's gut told him that the bastard was getting annoyed. "Why are you _removing_ my fucking clothes!"

Antonio merely glared at him, yet still sighed as he softly brushed away Romano's foot. He rose to a standing position, turning his back to the Italian, and began to unbutton his vest, but Romano had no intention of watching him undress. He scowled, kicking off his pants before moving the farthest he could to the other side of the bed and slipping under the covers. Damn that bastard. Why couldn't he just talk to him, instead of that stupid silent game? It pissed Romano off more than anything else. He curled up, trying to warm himself in the cold of the room, despite the blankets and the night shirt that Antonio had given him... Romano scowled at the cloth hanging off his hand. Was he simply trying to get Romano ready to sleep, in spite of his nervousness around him? Shit...Guilt surged through Romano's veins at the realization. He had acted so brashly at all of Antonio's kind gestures, not bothering once to thank him, or remotely show his gratitude...Damn it all.

The mattress sank beside him, though Antonio didn't move much after he was settled in the sheets. He sighed, blowing out the candle, and leaving the two in a near darkness, save for the moon caressing their shoulders and the vacant spot in the sheets between them. Romano fidgeted, both from the cold and fear that the other man would be angry at him... He hated it when Spain was irritated at him, and for some reason...he felt the same way about Antonio. It bothered him, in all honesty. Romano frowned, desperately wishing for him to say something, instead of remaining silent, but he knew that wouldn't happen... and it was all his fault... Romano shuddered, clutching the sheets under his chin. Shit... it was icy in that room. This was supposed to be one of the warmer ones too?

Antonio shifted, sniffing before groaning something under his breath that Romano could barely hear, but it sounded like something about being cold. He glanced over his shoulder, squinting to make out the form of Antonio's back facing him, lacking that collar he had worn all day; the man also was shivering...but just slightly. Chewing on his bottom lip, Romano carefully pushed himself back with his arms, sliding across the bed until he made contact with a much warmer body than his own. Antonio twitched at the touch. "...I got cold." Romano mumbled, hoping the idiot would buy his lie, flushing a faint red as he chuckled at the smaller man. "Shut up, dammit."

Antonio hummed, pulling more of the covers over them. The Italian crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath while attempting to hide the fact that he was snuggling closer to Antonio, who quietly sighed at the gesture. "Hey...bastard." Romano whispered, feeling the idiot behind him move his head to show he was listening. "I..." he froze; his words rolled around in his mouth, clattering against his teeth and tongue as he attempted to form together a sentence, "I... l-liked that song... you were singing earlier." Romano paused, taking a breath. God, he sounded just like his brother...but if anything, he was glad...relieved even, when he felt Antonio relax and brush his toes against Romano's foot.

* * *

><p>Sunlight streamed in from the dusty old curtains in Antonio's room, each beam choosing to lay its body directly over Romano's eyes, much to his displeasure. He whimper, burying his head in the lush feather pillows to reach that blissful darkness once more, and reached over in an attempt to find the main source of his warmth throughout the night, only to find a cold vacancy instead. <em>Stupid fucking Spain... getting up so fucking early, and leaving me fucking cold...<em> Whining, he snuggled himself deeper into the blankets, a tiny smile gracing his lips when he found himself comfortable and warm, save for the cold bite on his ears, and the strange, unpleasant feeling spreading across his skin.

"_Ohonhonhon_ Antoine~ You weren't kidding when you said he was cute! I just want to gobble him up!"

"He's not so cute when he scowls, but when he's sleeping, ah~ I just couldn't keep my eyes off of him!"

What the hell was that bastard rumbling on about now?

"_Kesesesesesese_, so was he any good in bed, hmm Toni?"

"Maybe if he wasn't so lazy and stubborn."

Romano groaned, trying to block out the voices with one of Antonio's pillows. Who the hell would talk so loud this early in the morning...ugh, and why the hell were they speaking in Latin of all the fucking languages! He'd rather be hearing fucking _German_ right now. Speaking of which, his potato bastard senses were going off... where the hell was his gun?

Something moved at his feet, tugging the blanket down to expose his shoulders, even more so when a weight was pressed into the mattress. Cold fingers brushed against the back of his neck, sending a too familiar chill to run down his spine. "Can I have a taste, Antoine?"

...Wait... That sounded...like...

Romano's eyes shot open, instantly filled with the oh too close, _way too fucking close_ face of a certain perfume stinking, cheese eating bastard. "Oh~ So you _are _awake~" the blond giggled, attempting to press those greasy, tainted lips against Romano's.

"_Che cazzo! Prendi il cazzo sconto di me, bastardo pervertito__!_" He screeched, kicking the fuck-face off of him and the bed, with the heels of his feet, before scrambling to the opposite side of the mattress. What the hell, _what the hell!_ "_Da quando__ si lascia che__ questo __stronzo__ molestare__ me nel mio__ sonno, __Spagna!_" Romano yelled, glaring at the green-eyed idiot... who was once again wearing those stupid old clo-... dammit. He was still stuck in this stupid world, with that stupid idiot, who still seemed to have the same fucking friends that Romano just loved to _hate_.

Gilbert, if this world still followed that same naming trend with Spain and England, couldn't stop his ear grating cackle, even as Francis picked himself off of the floor with a groan. "No way! Awesome Toni, you fucked a foreigner! An Alitian at that!" Antonio gaped at Gilbert, his mouth opening and shutting without producing any noise. Before Romano could scream back a response, that French looking fucker leaped across the bed in an attempt to latch his arms around the Italian, forcing Romano to let out a _very_ manly yelp as he dashed across the room to hide behind Antonio. The albino next to him only cackled more, stumbling over to the over-sized bed, and flopping his body atop the blond. "You scared the guy, Franny!"

"I only wanted to hug him." Francis pouted, struggling with Gilbert's hands when they attempted to pinch at his face. Antonio, on the other hand, was too busy trying to see the smaller man behind him, gently coaxing his arms to _just let go_. Romano only gripped him closer, his stomach lurching with every laugh and snicker escaping the two idiot's mouths.

"Keep...keep that fucker away from me..." Romano whispered, pressing his face into Antonio's back just to make sure he was the only one who could hear his plea, though not even sure that the bastard could understand him through his mumbling. He sighed, finally prying Romano's arms from around his waist. The two wrestling on his bed halted once they noticed the glare radiating from Antonio; a silent warning to the duo about the consequences their less than wanted actions would receive if they dared to defy the boundary line Antonio had set. Gilbert groaned, rolling his piercing red eyes while Francis merely laughed, lazily whirling his hands in the air.

"Ok, ok Antoine. I won't touch your little toy." Not for one moment did Romano believe the blond fucker. He still saw how the man practically ogled at him through those long locks of his, that is, until Gilbert tackled him flat against the bed for ignoring him for more than three seconds. The Italian groaned, grabbing the hem of Antonio's sleeve. He looked down at the smaller man, doing his best not to giggle at the adorable pout that curved Romano's lips downward, despite the ferocious glare he shot at Gilbert and Francis.

"Those fuckers think we had sex." Well wasn't that just the statement of the fucking year...yet Antonio's sigh was enough for Romano to understand that he _actually _realized what they had implied earlier, something Spain would've never gotten on the first few tries.

Romano suddenly flinched, burying his head into Antonio's bicep. Pain burned under his skin like a dammed white-hot fire, no doubt the aftermath of whatever was happening back in Italy... Well that and someone was fucking with the damn government officials; they had absolutely no business doing that, and it was really giving the poor man a headache...and secretly, he was glad there was someone at least _resembling_ Spain during this sudden onslaught of pain. Antonio seemed to notice this, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Romano's shoulders in an attempt to comfort the Italian, although the action a failed to escape the attention of the two idiots frolicking on his sheets. A low wolf-whistle tooted from Gilbert's pursed lips, quickly followed by a throaty laugh from his partner in crime.

That's it. Headache or not, Romano was fucking tired of this idiots. "Shut the_ fuck_ up, you dipshits! Antonio and I didn't fucking have sex, so get your god dammed mines out of the fucking gutter!" Romano screeched through clinched teeth right after he pushed Antonio off of him; a noise of discomfort bellowed in his throat at the action, but all it really did was piss the already irate Italian even more. Romano's head snapped towards Antonio, brows furrowed and fist ready to knock a hole right through his fucking skull. "And _you_." He sneered, taking a step closer to jerk the fucker's face closer to his own. "What the hell is with you! So,_ what_, the only time you can talk around me is when you fucking think I'm _asleep_! I fucking _hate _you!"

"Oi! Leave the guy alo-"

"Fuck you, you fucking albino asshole! Fuck all of you!" After a quick growl, obscene gesture, and slam of a door, Romano was stomping down the stairs, too furious to realize he was still wearing Antonio's shirt. Arthur lazily glanced at him from the comfort of his chair and the blazing fire in the hearth.

"I see you're alive." Was the curt greeting Romano received before the blond's attention was turned back to the book clasped between his hands, but the Italian just didn't feel like snapping back him despite the glare he gave the man. He plopped down on the couch, instantly drawing his knees to his chest and with a gruff exhale, he allowed his head to rest upon them. Arthur sighed, flipping to the next page in what looked like to be a handwritten book. "Don't mind those two idiots; they tend to get a bit overexcited when they meet someone new."

Romano snorted, enjoying the rush of warm air washing over his body, reminding him of the heat of a Spanish summer day. Upstairs, he could hear people frantically moving around, complete with a few bangs and swears, complemented by obnoxious laughter that burrowed its way into Romano's skull and leaped around like some squirrel on crack. "Bastard still won't talk to me."

Arthur lightly chuckled, his pear coloured eyes never leaving the pages of his book, even while reaching over to his side to pick up a small cup. "Just give the twit some time. I recommend going out with and his idiots to their escapades." He took a sip of whatever was in the cup, before placing it back down on its saucer.

"Why the hell would I want to do that!"

"Because, Antonio is _always_ more comfortable whenever he is with those hooligans, no matter the situation." he retorted with a sigh, gently folding his hands over his book in his lap. Arthur eyed Romano, noticing the attire of the younger man before sharply turning his attention to the stairs. Somebody was yelling, most likely Francis from the feminine ring to the voice. "What the bloody hell are those imbeciles doing up there!" Sure enough, not a second later Gilbert came crashing down the stairs in a fit of curses, landing right outside the door leading to Arthur's bedroom on his back.

He groaned, rolling to his side before picking himself up off the floor, and cringed at one point, grabbing his right hip. "Damn, Toni... Give me warning next time." Glancing back up the stairs, Gilbert's face contorted, a firm combination of annoyance and fear etched into the creases of his skin, but it melted away into irritation once he laid his eyes on Romano's curl, barely sticking up from the couch. Causing a hell of a lot of noise while doing so, he stomped over to the Italian, glaring down at him with those hellfire coloured eyes of his. "This is your fault."

Ugh. Romano really didn't need this shit now. He grasped his head, gently rolling his fingers over this temple in an attempt to soothe the migraine building up. "What the hell are you talking about..." he grated, cringing at a particular wave of pain. If he ever found out who was fucking with _his_ half of Italy, mafia or not, he would torture them and then give them over to that Belarus freak, telling her they were after her brother. _Shiit. Feli, you need to do something about those bastards before they really fuck up the government..._

"Antonio's throwing a bitch fit because of you..."Gilbert growled, though his frown did waver a bit when Romano's eyes clinched, a sharp hiss leaving his lips. "H-hey, are you okay?" He glared up at the albino through his lashes, not looking nearly as ferocious as he would've liked with the traces of tears in his eyes.

"I'm fucking fantastic, now leave me the hell alone." He sniffed, returning his head to the comfort of his knees.

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, _right_. Well, lucky for you, I've got the perfect thing to make you better." He practically yelled, sending shock waves through Romano's ears and brain. "Yo, brows, where is-"

"In the sun lounge." Arthur briskly replied, keeping his voice soft in consideration of Romano's migraine, despite the annoyed undertone that accented his words. Gilbert took off in the direction of the cooking room, breaking into a run once he passed all the furniture. "Lovino, are you sure you're okay?" Arthur whispered, though he didn't move from his chair.

Romano sighed, choosing to be nice in response to the blonde's thoughtfulness, if he could even call it that. "I'm fine. This just happens sometimes. It'll be over soon." Hopefully at least; there were times when it lasted a few days..ugh. Arthur refrained from speaking after that, so the two listened to the sounds that echoed throughout the house. Outside, Romano could hear the chirping of birds, a symphony of calls that fluttered through the air like the beating of wings, nicely complementing the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. More shouts roared upstairs, most of them from Antonio with a few from Francis in return, but their words were garbled through the wood, leaving them unintelligible to the Italian. Soon enough, the pitter-pattering of tiny feet caught Romano's attention but he brushed it off as a figment of his imagination. There would be no way that Arthur would have children, let alone _small_ ones... right?

Something tugged at the hem of Antonio's shirt, brushing against Romano's shin with its short, pudgy fingers. He shifted his arms, taking a peek at whatever was pulling at the cloth. A mess of blond hair was the first thing that caught Romano's eyes, quickly followed by a pair of impossibly blue eyes nestled in chubby cheeks blotched with a faint pink. The little boy, no older than three or four, stared up at the brunet, the most adorable bashful pout on his cute little face and Romano couldn't help but want to cuddle the child. He lowered his legs, changing to a sitting position as the boy continued to stare at him, his eyes unusually calculating and alert masked by a layer of shyness. Suddenly, his tiny linen clothed arms jutted out towards Romano, fists clinching and stretching out in his want for attention; he complied with his wish, gently lifting the child up by his armpits, allowing him to sit in his lap.

Within seconds of sitting him down, the boy latched his arms around Romano's waist, snuggling that little nose of his into the man's chest. "_Sei__ glücklich!__ Ich gebe dir__ einen glückliches __Umarmung_!" he squeaked, slurring some of his words like a normal child would, but it still didn't prevent Romano from twitching uncomfortably. He definably wasn't used to small children hugging him... sitting in his lap maybe, but not _hugs_... That, and the little guy spoke _German_, not to mention he had some of the same characteristics of a certain potato bastard... just miniaturized, now that he really thought about it. High set cheekbones that would surely loose the baby fat once he matured, strong bones that would surely grow to support a giant frame, and just from the strength he already had, Romano knew that if he took good care of himself, he'd be one hell of a force to mess with. The child pulled himself far enough away to look at Romano's face, an expectant pout nestled on his lips.

"_Sehr gut_, West!" Gilbert laughed, perching himself on the far side of the couch.

_West... Fuck, this really is the potato bastard!_ Romano sighed, lazily staring back at the child in his lap... well he was still cute despite being that muscle macho's alternate. _Will this little bambino grow up to be that hulking monster?_

"So is that headache gone?" The white haired man continued, leaning his arm on the edge of the couch as he continued to leer at the two males. Romano opened his mouth, about to chew the bastard out for asking something so absurd, but paused, realizing that the child had _actually_ distracted him enough to not even notice when the pain stopped. He hummed, fondly ruffling Ludwig's hair, electing a giggle from the boy. Maybe, just for the happiness of the little one, he would allow them to think that his hug helped to alleviate his migraine.

"You know what?" Romano smiled, watching Ludwig compare the sizes of their hands, gasping in amazement at how much larger his hand was next to the child's tiny fingers. "I do feel better now." Blue eyes snapped up to his, a heart warming grin growing under them.

"Happy! Happy!" Ludwig chirped, slightly surprising Romano with the Latin words springing from his mouth.

"_Kesesesesese!_ That's my smart little baby_ bruder_!" Gilbert chuckled, motioning for the child to sit in his lap, which he gladly complied. The potato bastard then began to speak to Ludwig in rapid German, effectively losing Romano's attention, even through the sweet giggles that leaped from the little one's mouth…until there was another shout upstairs, quickly followed by a door slamming. Ludwig clutched Gilbert as tightly as he could, burying his face into his shoulder. "It's okay, West. Toni's just a little angry right now, and get a little mean when he's like that." Ludwig let out a small whimper as he nodded in acknowledgement.

Silently, Francis ambled down the stairs, his face contorted with grief and anger though his body remained calm and somewhat whimsical. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, folding his arms and leaning his lean frame against the wall, all while giving Romano a glare that put many of the Italian's dirty looks to shame. "Go talk to him." Cold and brisk, his voice was, lacking the charm and constantly flowing sense of lust that normally intertwined with his words.

"Why the hell should I? He won't talk to _me._"

Francis rolled his eyes, huffing through clinched teeth. "Antonio takes some things said to him very seriously, and now he thinks that you hate him. You have _no_ idea how much he wants you to like him. Go _talk_ to _him_."

Romano scowled, but nevertheless got his ass up off of the couch, and marched his way up the stairs, pausing only to throw a disgusted frown at Francis as he passed by him. Without a word, he opened the door. Sheets were strewn all over the floor, a pillow lay in one corner, while it's match was propped up against the wall on the other side of the room, and the curtains were tied shut, leaving the room darker than it was when Romano first left. Antonio sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows propped on his knees, and his face wrapped up in his hands with his fingers tangling in his curly bangs. He twitched when Romano gently closed the door, snapping his head up to the source of the click and piercing through the darkness with his acidic emerald eyes, only to sharply inhale one he realized who it was. Clinching his fists, Romano trudged over to Antonio, careful not to slip on one of the blankets.

"You're a real bastard." He growled once he was standing before the curly haired brunet. Antonio stared up at him, brows bent upward and creating wrinkles between them and his breath shallow, looking like a fucking kicked puppy. "You've only known me for one day, but you're willing to throw a fit just because I said that I hated you? Idiot." Antonio turned his face towards the floor, cupping his hands around them once again, his shoulders quaking with every exhale.

Romano sighed, rolling over what Francis said to him in his head. _He wants me to like him, but he's so fucking nervous when I'm close to him… I just don't understand._ Thoughts tumbled over each other as he mulled over thing, thinking of all of the things that could make the bastard like he was. Well…kissing him the day before probably didn't help any, not to mention right afterwards, Romano would completely flip out on him in some way, furthermore confusing the idiot more than he already was… If… If Romano never kissed him under that tree… would he still be silent, or would he actually speak around him? Shit… this really was his own fault, wasn't it?

"Look." Romano softly said, kneeling down so he could easily pry Antonio's hands away from his face, holding them within his own. "I really… don't hate you. I've just been through a lot of shit lately…" he paused, giving Antonio time to look him in the eyes as he spoke. Romano blushed once their eyes did make contact, and twisted his face away from the other man's, cursing his blood for rushing towards his cheeks. "So...so don't go around pouting because of this stupid shit. I-I want you... to be happy, and fucking air headed...not pissed at y-your dumbass friends." Romano glanced back up at Antonio. Such a radiant smile was spread across the young man's face, immortalizing it under the soft glow of sunlight as if he was as old as the earth itself. Genuine happiness and a little something else fluttered behind his eyes; something that Romano had missed seeing over the past months during the war. If only that bastard _knew_ how much he resembled Spain, especially when he smiled like that...like Romano was the only thing that existed in the world that truly mattered...

It made his heart tremble with joy.

Upon realizing he had been gazing into Antonio's eyes for way too fucking long, Romano leaped up to his feet, swatting away the brunet's hands, which had remained in his during that entire ordeal. "Fucking bastard." He sputtered, cheeks burning red as he turned his back to the man. "I'm tired of wearing this stupid shirt of yours. Find me some damn clothes."

Antonio could only chuckle.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are loved, and they can somewhat help with what happens, especially with the ending of this whole thing. I'm still stuck between two possible outcomes.<br>**

**Translations (By google... so they're probably wrong)**

**_Che cazzo! Prendi il cazzo sconto di me, bastardo pervertito!_- What the fuck! Get the fuck off me, you perverted bastard!**

_**Da quando si lascia che questo stronzo molestare me nel mio sonno, Spagna!**_**?- Since when do you let this fucker molest me in my sleep, Spain!**

**_Sei__ glücklich!__ Ich gebe dir__ einen glückliches __Umarmung_!- Be happy! I'll give you a happy hug!**

**_Sehr gut!- _Very good!  
><strong>


	6. Cynical Pink

**Chapter 6 is now one chapter instead of two, and as such, this could possibly be the longest chapter in the entire fic.**

**Anyway, thanks for your patience and Enjoy! (And if something confuses you, feel free to ask. If it won't spoil anything for the plot, I will attempt to do my best to explain it.)**

* * *

><p>Two weeks…<p>

Ugh.

Two weeks of having to deal with the daily annoyances of the so called _Bad Touch Trio_, often having to hear about their stupid escapades of picking up girls and their oh so _magnificent_ journeys to other countries…to hit on the women there. Such _wonder _their lives held…though some of their other stories were a little humorous, such as when Francis flirted with a cute little girl, only to be chased across the city by the her brother... who was half of the pervert's height, and wielding a fucking bow. Luckily, unlike their nation counterparts, these idiots were fully aware of their mortality, so they weren't complete douche bags about stupid shit but they still acted the relatively the same. Gilbert was obnoxious about his awesomeness, Francis was still a pervert, and Antonio… well… he remained very conservative compared to Spain, but he _was_ opening up to Romano… in a way, slightly parallel to Spain's need to be close to just about _everyone_ he knew, and in all honesty, Romano grew used to his behaviour, accepting that he'd rather live with Antonio, being the strange idiot he was, than to not have him at all. He _was_ less twitchy when around him, showing more and more kindness to the Italian every day, even giving him some light hugs every now and then, yet still he couldn't force himself to talk, even when he was with those two idiots... But he did _try_, choosing to use body language instead, which usually ended up where Gilbert or Arthur had to explain what the hell he meant. Francis, that fucker, translated everything into _I want your penis~, _effectively earning a smack in the head every single time. Sometimes multiple. Other than that, life there wasn't as horrible as he originally assumed it would be.

When Romano wasn't dodging the fuck-face's perverted hands, and when he was with either of the two potato lickers, Arthur, Antonio or any combination of the four, he found he rather enjoyed his time in the world so different, yet so similar to his own. It was nice, he could say, to live where he didn't have to constantly worry about stupid, overly important things, despite the lack of technology, which he had always taken for granted. Of course he missed the daily showers, heating, kitchen appliances, and other such things, but the time he spent with people who seemed to actually take pleasure in his company made up for it many times over. Romano also took the responsibility to aid his two housemates with the daily chores, since they _did_ allow him to have his own room, and fed him with their decent food. Tending the livestock, cleaning the house, accompanying them to the market, and other such events were some of the many things he found himself occupying his time with, that is, when he wasn't merely watching over the house whenever they had to leave for a few hours to sell items in the market. He'd spend most of those hours in their sunroom, either alone or with Ludwig, if he was around. They'd take a siesta in the warm, sunlit area, with Romano sprawled out on the pillows lining the floor, and the blond boy cuddled up next to him, followed by reading to the youngster, smiling and laughing every time Ludwig would point at a picture and babble out some nonsense in either German or Latin. Such an intelligent and lovely child Romano found him to be; much less strict and angry than the German bastard that his brother constantly bothered …

_Feliciano_…

There were many nights Romano found himself missing that hopelessly beloved sibling of his, and Spain. He would coil himself up on his bed, staring at the small cast iron heater in the corner of his room, and fiddle with the hem of the shirt he seized from Antonio, as he attempted to quell his mind of such thoughts, trying to focus on the heat radiating from the mass of metal. Sometimes, it would work and he would fall asleep, but other times, he would begin to shed tears and usually climbed into in Antonio's bed minutes later, where he would cuddle up to the idiot… He always woke the poor bastard up when he did that. The first time, Antonio nearly had a heart attack when he felt Romano nuzzle his tear stained face into his back but after the fourth or fifth time, he would hesitantly wrap his arms around Romano, eventually humming that ancient lullaby in an attempt to calm the Italian. The majority of the time it lulled Romano to sleep, but there was once or twice where it only made him slightly drowsy and Antonio would fall asleep before he did. Romano would observe the other man's sleeping form those nights, drinking in the warm wafts of breath caressing his hair and brows as he lethargically traced the flesh of Antonio's face with half-lidded eyes. After a few minutes, Antonio would whimper, and then twitch, pulling him closer to his body, muttering in incomprehensible slurs in his slumber.

Romano loved those nights the most.

* * *

><p>"Antonio, you <em>dumb shit,<em> where the hell are you! Romano yelled out amongst a crowd of overly dressed rich snobs, earning glares and grimaces as he pushed past them. He'd think a tall man with messy curls would be easy to find in a mass of much shorter people with fucking _blonde_ hair, but no; whoever makes all of the damn rules around here decided to make it quite the opposite, even with that bastard and his two idiot friends wearing some sort of obvious neckwear that easily set them apart from other _non-awesome_ people, as Gilbert has said on multiple occasions. Apparently here, _normal_ people never wore necklaces in plain sight, or anything related, and if they did, they were seen as _different_. Scarves, ties and ascots, thankfully, were acceptable, and he'd be raising all kinds of hell if he couldn't wear a fucking scarf in the middle of December. Romano still didn't understand it, but if that was the way people wanted to be around here in their stupid little rich boy outfits, then so be it.

With a brusque groan, Romano situated himself right in the middle of a wooden bench, after brushing off the small amount of snow in his way, and bundled his arms around himself. People paid no attention to him as they passed, choosing instead to indulge themselves with whoever they were accompanied with, or rushing to and fro, shoving past others as they hurried their little asses along. Leaning back, Romano closed his eyes, allowing his ears to drink in all of the sounds Nodoln had to offer him. People... an overwhelming amount of both familiar and foreign tongues were the first to charm his ears, and so many voices they came from; a burly Rengamian man to his left attempting to sell various handmade crafts to various people, children scampered about, shouting at each other as they played their war games, and many, many more, each so different, yet so similar, it reminded Romano of the Rome of his childhood. Every now and then, the whinnies of horses breached the dull roar of human voices, clicking their hooves against the cobblestone roads while pulling carts behind them. A young couple frolicked in the snow of the tiny stretch of grass that acted as some sort of miniature recreational area for the city, while birds fluttered and chirped in the trees stretching above them. Such a peaceful place.

Romano sighed, attempting to wrap Antonio's coat closer to him... Apparently, the guy who made all of Arthur and Antonio's clothes was out of town, so the Italian was forced to borrow jackets and town shirts from the two men, but thankfully, earlier in the week, they were able to find a few work shirts and pants that fit Romano for sale in the market. Sure, he looked like an average farm worker in that attire, but it would just have to do; besides they helped retain warmth better than those fancy clothes.

Flakes of snow drifted in the air around him, some landing on his shoulders, while others nestled themselves in his hair, but Romano simply ignored them. He was too busy staring at the snow blotched buildings to even care; a certain pastry shop caught his eye, its small windows filled with numerous, delicious looking treats and the delectable scent of warm sugar, cinnamon and vanilla permeated the area around it. He stared for a moment, fingering the small amount of coins in his pocket that he'd brought with him. No... He wouldn't have enough to get anything of that sort; apparently here, pastries and bread were extremely expensive, even for the rich, but god, he would kill for something sweet and some coffee, or perhaps a juicy tomato. Romano growled, deciding to distract himself by once again searching the crowd for that russet headed idiot. Sure, he could've gotten up off his ass and properly searched for the guy, but _he_ abandoned Romano, and as such, Antonio would just have to find him. If he didn't like it, well tough shit.

Face, after face, after face he had the utmost pleasure of staring at, some pretty, some not, while he scanned for that bastard. A few people were wearing necklaces, mostly wrought in gaudy silver or gold, and Romano noted to himself how they were a bit taller and perhaps more masculine than the civilians who weren't... Why the hell was that? Romano frowned, unable to come up with a logical answer as to why. Ugh. He'd have to ask someone later. Right now, had he had something else to worry about; the wind decided to pick a perfect time to strengthen, throwing snow in his face along with an icy breeze that forced him to nestle himself deeper into his oversized coat. Damn, how did people get used to this shit? Spring better be a hell of a lot warmer than this _wonderful_ weather that seemed to last forever... guh, and it was only _three_ weeks into December too. Scowling, Romano focused his eyes on his feet, glad that the material wasn't some thin shit that wouldn't hold any kind of warmth.

He shivered, wondering just how long it had been since he last saw Antonio... Would he call out for the Italian, or just search around like a mute mother who lost her child? Doubt began to bubble up in his chest. What if he wasn't searching for Romano? Surely he had to notice a lack of curses and yelling... But it wouldn't be the first time someone left him for someone or something else, hell, even _Spain, _of all people, occasionally chose France and Prussia over him...and by occasionally, he meant many, _many_ times. "Don't leave me alone...bastard..." He grumbled to himself, drawing his arms closer to his chest and nestling his chin into his scarf. Romano would_ wait_ there for the bastard to find him, doing his best to put on a scowl for when Antonio did locate the Italian; however all it really achieved was making him look like a lost puppy. Cold air licked at his cheeks, colouring them a faint pink but he ignored the sting... Where the hell was that bastard? It felt like he had been sitting there for hours, and frankly, he was getting a bit scared. Someone could just come and snatch the nation away, and Antonio would never know... if he even cared.

_Shit, don't think of things like that dumbass._ But it was hard not to. Everyone eventually abandoned him, Antonio would be no different. Romano let out a shuddering exhale, keeping his eyes on the ground, watching dozens of feet cross his line of vision. "Where did you go, Antonio..."

Someone sat beside him without a word, causing Romano to huff and move over little to give them room, without even taking a look at who it was. He didn't need this shit. That person remained silent for a few moments, before placing a _massive _fucking hand on Romano's shoulder. He twitched, unsure if he should look, or just get up and walk away... running away sounded quite nice.

Just as he tensed his muscles in preparation of sprinting from whoever dared to touch him, a small breaded object floated into his peripheral. Romano stared at it, allowing his eyes to travel up the patched coat's arm, across broad shoulders to a mop of curly, chocolate locks. "A-Antonio?" he stammered, uncertain if he wanted to latch onto the man and never let go, or beat the living shit out of him for leaving him unaided in this impossibly large, and diverse city. The bastard grinned, once again presenting Romano the food that was wrapped in a linen cloth. He glared at Antonio, swatting his hand off of his shoulder, catching wafts of the sweet smelling whatever it was, and that scent alone made his mouth water. "What the fuck is this shit." He growled, but none the less, took the treat from the darker hands. It was warm... and the smell of apples drifted up to his nose once he brought it closer to his face to inspect it.

Antonio flicked his head towards the pastry shop, earning a slightly shocked gawk from the Italian, though it quickly morphed into anger. "What the hell, you were in there the entire time!" The brunet nodded. "And you were fucking watching me too?" Another nod. Romano groaned, unsure if he should've been pleased, or if he'd rather just beat the bastard with the fucking pastry... shit, it had to cost a _fortune_, he couldn't just waste it like that...and Antonio didn't buy anything for himself either. Damn the guilt that broiled in his chest. With careful fingers, Romano unwrapped and split the strudel into two equal halves, vigilantly watching to make sure the filling didn't accidently slip out and fall into his lap. "Here." He muttered, thrusting the pastry half into Antonio's hands, thoroughly surprising the young man while turning his head, attempting to hide the blush that crept along his cheeks. "I don't want to hear you fucking bitch about being hungry." Bah, such lies poured from his mouth, and yet, Antonio didn't seem to mind as he blinked a few times before humming his version of a _thank you_, and lifted the treat from Romano's grasp.

"But." Romano continued in a curt voice, still refusing to look at the bastard beside him, even as he twisted his arm around Antonio's. "I'm holding on to you t-this time... s-so you don't r-run away...or some shit l-like that." Antonio chuckled from the back of his throat, and his body remained relaxed; due to his overexposure to Romano's sudden bouts of clinginess after some sort of emotional distress...not that he was really clinging to the bastard at that moment... no... He was just making sure the idiot wouldn't leave him...yeah. That was it

Romano let out a _humph_, choosing that moment to bite into the pastry, moaning at the oh so wonderful taste that flooded his tongue. "Mmmm, fuck. That's _good_." Warm apples, sugar, and cinnamon swirled in his mouth, threatening to burst the receptors along the muscle they encased as he slowly chewed the strudel, savouring as much of it as he could. After every drawn out groan that left the Italian's lips, Antonio's hand twitched, sending a tremor down Romano's fingers and successfully gaining a snarl and glare in his direction. "What the fuck is wrong with your hand bastard?" Antonio's body tensed at the sound of Romano's voice, quickly turning his head to the side but the shorter brunet managed to catch a glimpse of the blush creeping under those emerald eyes. He scoffed, deciding to disregard the man for now. Romano's gaze returned to the people passing by the two, taking quick mental notes of the local population and how much they resembled the humans back in Europe... Though they easily could be something else entirely, according to some of the '_valuable information'_ Arthur had told him over the last few days.

Francis later pulled Romano to the side, and advised him to not listen to a word that brows had said. _"He claims to see fairies flapping around the forest. I think our little Antoine hit him in the head a little too hard when he was young~" _The perverted bastard later added.

A sigh, slightly disappointed, yet still laced with contentment, fluttered from Romano's lips once he popped the last bit of the tart into his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he watched the russet haired man and the prominent blush that still encased his cheeks.

_It's cute with him all flustered._

Romano coughed when the thought crossed his mind, cursing his own skin for the slight sting that crossed his face. "You better not be thinking of anything perverted, or I'll fucking kill you." He stated, drawing the arm closer to his side, and gently pressing his hand atop Antonio's as he slouched down on the bench and observed the passing citizens with an uninterested gaze. Once again, Antonio began to fidget under Romano's touch, attempting to distract himself by delicately nibbling on the pastry in his left hand.

Silence met the two men, with Antonio just being himself, and Romano... well he was busy trying to ignore the bastard, although he was quickly failing once he gradually realized Antonio was attempting to discreetly maneuver his fingers where Romano's pinkie would rest between his ring and his little fingers. He secretly kept a watch on Antonio from the corner of his eye, spotting every single time the bastard's gaze flickered over to the Italian, even though he half-heartedly tried to hide those emerald eyes under chocolate tresses. That sting from moments before reared its ugly head as he felt cheeks begin to burn from some sort of emotion Romano didn't feel like naming at that moment, especially when Antonio succeeded in his task.

"What are you doing, bastard?" Romano growled, not bothering to move his hand...since it was nice and cozy with Antonio's hand warming it in the chill of the winter air. As usual, Antonio remained silent, choosing to gently smile down at him with those fucking gorgeous eyes that sent chills down Romano's spine every single time they looked at him like that.

"Stop staring at me, fucker." Romano scowled, pushing himself to the end of the bench, and away from the brunet, who lightly chuckled under his breath and finished off his portion of the apple strudel. Romano huffed, crossing his arms and averting his eyes from the idiot. An unfamiliar feeling welled up in his chest, and it only grew when he felt Antonio scoot over to the point where his shoulder was pressed into the side of the green-eyed brunet; sinewy fingers were draped over his other shoulder, and Romano shoot a glare up at Antonio, finding that he had stretched his arms across the back of their seat in relaxation while his attention was drifting elsewhere. _Gah, why do tomato bastards insist on being so fucking touchy-feely? They just don't seem to understand __**boundaries**__._ He grumbled, attempting to make himself as small as possible but decided against it when he discovered how much warmer Antonio was than his jacket... and maybe if they sat like this for a while... maybe...just _maybe,_ Antonio would talk to him.

Such pleasant thoughts overran his mind, thinking of hearing that wonderfully soft and husky voice during an actual conversation, rather than as lethargic sighs or short hums. That voice... he often heard in his dreams, singing to him... telling him how lovely and beautiful he was despite what everyone else thought. _Spain's_ voice was what he longed for...and yet, every day whenever he thought of the Spaniard, he found him gradually being replaced by Antonio... A cherished loved one who literally made him the man he was... replaced by a bastard who he'd only known for a couple of weeks.

It terrified Romano more than anything else.

More times than once, those no good fingers brushed against Romano's neck, sending an unnatural tingle down his spine, only to furl in his stomach before shooting down his legs and painfully curling in the tips of his toes. Romano attempted to ignore those _naive_ touches, desperately not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than he already was with that idiot in such a close proximity...even though, with every fleeting caress Antonio was gaining courage, allowing his fingers to linger on his skin for longer and longer. So with a gruff exhale, Romano tolerated Antonio's perverted little fingers doing as they pleased, if only to keep the idiot happy and smiling, and to keep those prying eyes of pompous bastards away from him. He glanced back at Antonio through the corner of his eye, but languidly blinked as those audacious nails lazily stroked his earlobe before trailing up its outer shell and burying themselves in his coffee tresses. Ah~ he could've purred from the pleasure of those fingers gently scraping his scalp. Somehow, that bastard had an uncanny ability of finding those spots that made Romano's skin crawl with delight, not that he was complaining... after all, just like Spain, Antonio had the fucking hands of a Spanish god, no matter how much they tended to wonder around his skin... just his weren't quite as perverted as Spain's... and for some reason, his skin seemed much, _much_ more sensitive under Antonio's touch.

Romano leaned into the touch, drawing a chuckle from Antonio as he shivered when one of those nails stroked where the shell of his ear met his skull. "Bastard... what the hell do you think yo-nghmm!" All of the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed as one of Antonio's fingers came oh so very _close_ to the root of that certain annoying curl. Romano heavily swallowed, nearly choking on the mortification surging up his throat, but _thankfully_, Antonio caught onto his sudden rigidness and returned his fingers to the silky flesh under his ear.

Romano narrowed his eyes at the adventurous moron, snarling through clinched teeth as he caught a glance at the sly grin creasing the brunet's lips, even though his head was indolently rolled back between his hunched shoulders, allowing icy flakes to flutter down from the heavens and collect on the off-black lashes. They'd batter against his dark skin every now and then, matching the hypnotizing swirls his fingers left on Romano's neck. It all could've stopped in a matter of seconds with a well placed elbow to Antonio's foolishly unprotected groin, yet... Romano controlled the tingling arm that just _itched_ to slam into something delicate, no matter how much those tantalizing digits made his skin crawl and burn. Instead, he permitted his lids to skim over his olive eyes, completely shutting out the stares scorching holes into his flesh, and focused on the bottomless expansions and contractions of Antonio's lungs. Soon enough, his neck ached at the awkward angle it was forced into, so he shifted his shoulders into a more comfortable position under Antonio's arm, sighing as he did. His head rolled back, using the other man's deltoid as a makeshift pillow.

Often... he questioned if he should allow his guard to be so low when alone with the emerald-eyed bastard, but after that day when Antonio went apeshit on Francis, he was hell-bent on making sure that the idiot knew he didn't hate him, and as such, he limited his yelling and bitching whenever he was alone with the man... Besides, the occasional cuddle, and constant attention kept his mind from wondering to painful subjects. And he'd be lying if he claimed he didn't enjoy them...unless, they weren't around the fuck-face and potato bastard # 2... then, he just wanted to kill everyone. Antonio included, since his touches became _a lot_ more perverted.

"Toni, my man! Putting the moves on the little spitfire, _kesesesesese!_~"

_God fucking __**dammit**__! Every. Single. Fucking. Time!_

Romano's eyes snapped open at the sound of the albino's jarring cackle, those two idiots instantly filling his line of vision; Francis, with that bearded mug cocked to the side, flashing that ugly as hell necklace he constantly adorned out in public eyes, and his hands perched on his hips like some kind of fucking model getting their picture taken for some stupid magazine, and Gilbert... well he was holding a slumbering Ludwig in his arms like an overly protective brother should, but that sneering grin plastered on his face was enough to make Romano want to severely hurt him. Perhaps with the heel of his foot, or a nice fist to the side of his skull.

Romano scowled, quickly shoving Antonio away from him at the sound of those idiots' giggling. Apparently, Antonio hadn't even noticed his friends approach the two and made a noise of protest as he toppled over onto his arm, far away from the man he was enjoying his cuddle time with. He shot a glare at his two _buddies_, instantly springing back to Romano's side. Gilbert completely blew off the dirty looks he seemed to acquire over the last few moments, his grin beaming even brighter as Romano pushed Antonio away from him once again, and Antonio, being the stubborn bastard he could occasionally be, slithered his way back over to Romano, this time securing his arms around that slender waist. Romano could almost hear the bastard exclaiming _I want my hug time, go away!_

An irritated groan roared from the Italian's throat. "Antonio, you bastard! Get. Off!" How hard was it for that idiot to understand he didn't want him hanging all over him when they were around those two dipshit friends of his? He would never hear the end of it, always _Ooh, you perverted dog, letting Toni touch you like that~ _or_ stop playing tough and let that Ispiahnan hunk tap that ass~_ It made him want to retch, and if that tomato bastard wanted Romano to like him, his stupid little friends of his weren't helping. Romano whimpered at the thought off their perverted words, and how they _never fucking ended_!

"Ohonhonhon, Antoine~ It seems your little toy doesn't want to play~" the fuck-face chortled, his lips curling to a grin worthy of a rapist's while greedily staring down at the two on the bench. Romano's scowl furrowed even deeper, shifting his arms in an attempt to escape Antonio, only to find that he couldn't. Damn it all.

Gilbert then sneered an equally perverted smirk. "It seems the fireball is mad!" he stated, narrowing his crimson red eyes at the two. "Why don't you make him _smile_, Toni?"

Shit...fucking hell. What did that fucking albino mean by tha- Oh _god_…the look that materialized on Antonio's face at the words of his friend … it sent a bitter tingle down Romano's spine, even more than the growling chuckle purring in the back of his throat. What the hell did he have planned in that one-tracked head of his?

Romano froze as Antonio shifted, and shivered as wafts of Antonio's breath washed over the exposed flesh of his neck before the prickle was replaced by the bridge of a slender, faintly bowed nose, and a curl covered forehead was pressed into equally dark locks. His face violently burned a crimson red when he felt the tips of Antonio's graze his ear, followed by fingers tightening around the sides of his stomach, not at all helping the humiliation and exhilaration fluttering in it. Antonio pulled Romano closer to his chest, humming his warm breath into his ear, electing a squeak from the smouldering Italian and a weary glare from those olive eyes. "Stop it, idiot…" Romano whined, halfheartedly trying to move his head away from Antonio's tantalizing lips. The bastard only drew him closer, chuckling against the side of his skull and sending a very evident message down Romano's neck with his breaths.

_Not until you smile~_

Antonio's fingers curled into the many layers of cloth lining Romano's sides, each moving and probing of their own accord as they traveled up his ribs, before suddenly switching directions and scuttling across his stomach. Every muscle those fingers ghosted over clinched, sending Romano into a fit of curses when his body jumped in an attempt to escape those digging nails, only to find his head pressed into the soft junction between Antonio's neck and shoulder. Entertained giggles poured from those fuckers' mouth at the sight of his writhing, and they only continued when Romano and Antonio toppled over each other, nearly crushing the lungs which quaked under his sealed lips. There was no _way_ he would make a noise... no fucking way.

But that bastard just wouldn't give up; he changed his angle of attack, choosing to drag those scalding fingers down the centre of his belly, snickering and repositioning his legs as he did so. God dammit, how did that figure out one of Romano's darkest secrets... the sensation was starting to override any emotional barriers that bottled up those annoying bouts of air attempting to escape his stubborn lips, and there just wasn't anything that he could do about it. At first, it all came down hill as a sputter through clinched teeth, followed by Romano burying his face deeper into Antonio's neck, ignoring the collar pinching into his forehead while desperately trying to hide the giggles forming in the back of his throat, but that bastard wasn't having any of that. He pressed deeper into Romano's flesh, frantically moving his fingers down his ribs, making sure to probe the small space between each. A stream of laughs erupted from Romano's lungs, each a bit longer and clearer than the last, and each complimented by him snuggling his nose against Antonio's neck.

Damn that bastard, even as he himself began to laugh with the chortling Italian, though his chuckles were much, much deeper than Romano's. "S-ah-stop it, b-bastard!" He managed to choke out once he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.. but did that idiot stop? No. He just kept on and on, scrambling those fucking fingers along Romano's ribs while grazing his lips across the side of his head, trailing across the tips of the loose curls perched on his scalp...

Dammit, how long has that bastard known about Romano being ticklish? It could've easily been from that time Antonio hugged him while asleep, and managed to brush his fingers down his sides... but he was _asleep_, not awake... Fuck, he better not do that shit where he pretended to be snoozing, only to stay awake half the night staring at Romano; Spain always did that, often waking up hours before Romano did just to continue gazing at his face... Not that he minded waking up to find a pair of stunning emerald orbs gently battering their lashes at him, perfectly complimented with a loving smile and a chaste kiss to his cheek or forehead. But right now, he didn't have the time to think of what would never happen again. His lungs longed burned from laughing way too _fucking _much, and those wretched little fingers were getting too daring with every passing second. "Bastard stop!" Romano growled though the onslaught to laughs bursting from his lips, using his elbow to attempt to batter him away, but Antonio just wouldn't give up.

And the degrading giggles and whistles emitted by those two bastards not even bothering to help the distraught Italian pissed him off more than Antonio molesting his sides. But would they help?... _No_; that would be much too troublesome for Mr. _Holy-shit-I'm-fucking-awesome_, and the fucking priss.

That's it. The Spanish-looking fucker was going to stop that shit _right now_, and if Antonio was as similar to Spain as he seemed, the plan that developed in Romano's head would work _perfectly_. Without any type of warning, Romano opened his mouth against the skin directly below the leather collar around Antonio's neck, flattening his tongue against the vein furiously pumping blood to that perverted little brain of his... ugh. That bastard really needed a bath, tasting heavily of dirt and sweat. But oh, and how quickly Antonio froze once he felt that warm, wet muscle slither against his flesh, but Romano wouldn't simply leave it at that. Oh no. No-no-no-no. He _needed_ the fucking idiot to understand that this type of behavior would not be accepted with those two man-whores watching. Romano swirled his scalding tongue on that sun kissed skin, grinning as he felt the shudder quaking down Antonio's body and the thick dip in his Adam's apple. Antonio couldn't decide whether he wanted his fingers to release the feisty Italian, or to clutch even tighter as burning warmth met the tips of Romano's lips.

He chuckled, imagining the crimson that surely smouldered on that bastard's cheeks, and thinking of what he would do once the rest of his plan was initiated. Oh how flustered Antonio would be~ So, with nothing else to lose, Romano harshly bit down on the taut flesh, drawing blood from the skin with his sharpest teeth. Moving faster than Spain with the promise of tomatoes, Antonio leaped back, clutching his now bleeding neck as he stared down at Romano with traumatized look on his face. Serves him right, attempting to molest him with all of these people around them.

"Seems you've found a feisty one, Antoine~" Francis chuckled, taking a step forward to examine the bite on Antonio's neck, much to Romano's displeasure. It wasn't that he didn't want that fuck-face anywhere near Antonio, making sure his wounds would stay relatively clean instead of Romano... no, not at all. He just didn't want that pervert around him...But the bastard wouldn't even look at his blond, perverted friend. _He_ was too busy staring at Romano with those luscious green eyes, wordlessly beckoning him to continue what he started despite everyone walking past them. "Ah, the bite will be just fine. It may last a week or two, depending on how much your precious Lovino wants everyone to know that you're _his_~"

The hell!

No he _didn't_!

Romano furiously scowled, pushing himself up from the bench without a word and stomped off, not caring where he went, or how long he walked; he just wanted to get the fuck away from those ignorant, inconsiderate, fucking _bastards_. Antonio made a noise at the action, chasing after the fuming Italian with his two friends closely behind.

Shit... tears stung at the corner of his eye lids, from embarrassment, or the pain that suddenly welled up in his legs and hands, he didn't know. All he _did _know was that once he finished off those two perverted freaks, he would tear the bastard fucking with his country to shreds, and use those morsels of meat to fish with... for fucking sharks or some shit like that. Whoever they were deserved the most painful death he could imagine, more so when his run diminished into a painful limp, allowing those idiots to catch up to him... Took them long enough. He already made it to the forest surrounding Nodoln, almost to the first fence that marked the city limits.

"Get off of me." Romano growled once he felt a pair of overly long and bulky arms wrap around his middle, gently tugging him back into a welcoming chest. Antonio hummed a _no_, choosing to softly press his chin against the back of the Italian's head instead of obeying his wishes, even as Francis finally caught up to the two; Gilbert was still carrying Ludwig, so he still had quite a bit to go.

"My, my, _mon cher_. You sure do run very fast!" he gasped, his breath huffing from the short distance run. No shit, he was a fast runner. The combination of being a dead sexy Italian, and having to run quickly to escape his nation self and a drunken Spain's perverted hands on a weekly basis or be raped, easily accounted for his sprinting abilities. "I'm afraid I may have offended you." Francis continued, taking his place beside the two, despite the murderous glare Antonio shot him. "And I apologize." He stuck out his hand to Romano... but it was ignored as something painful swirled in every cell in his body, making him stumble despite being in Antonio's arms. His vision blurred, forcing everything in his sight to merge together into only a few colours... God, what was happening?

Panic settled into Romano's skin. Something _bad_ was happening back in Italy, something that could tear his brother into pieces, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it... Shit, he needed to get the hell out of there, and he needed to do it _now._ "Let me go Antonio." He mumbled in a much weaker voice than he would've liked, feebly attempting to break from the arms around his torso only to find that his strength was draining faster than he originally anticipated, along with his breath... He gasped for air, his lungs heaving in an attempt to properly function, but not nearly enough oxygen could make its way down his gaping mouth and throat. "Antonio...let me go..." Romano wheezed once more, his pants louder than a few moments before. Antonio whined, turning Romano around in his arms and holding him by his shoulders. Those piercing green eyes searched his face for an explanation, but found nothing even as Romano's world went black.

* * *

><p>"So the paper work is done?"<p>

"Nearly. Preparations for your suggestion are being made in full, and all government officials have been notified of the future changes. All we will need is his signature, and separate nation to be present during the signing for it to be official."

"Well please hurry. The more time you take, the longer it will cause him unnecessary pain and it will be more evident as to what we are planning. If that happens, _he_ will likely strongly oppose it, making the final transaction even more difficult."

"But sir, how do these papers affect Mr. Italy?"

"The act of merely making suggesting things such as these will give him headaches, and just writing the documents will force him to faint. Being only half a nation leaves him more sensitive to such things."

"I see now, sir."

"And _nothing_ is said to anyone. Not even to _him._"

"Yes sir."

* * *

><p>Warmth overflowed Romano's senses once his conscious drifted back into the waking world, quickly by the feeling of being smothered by a shit-ton of blankets. He groaned, prying his eyes open only to find himself in Antonio's room. "Ah~ so you're awake now, <em>mon cher.<em>" Dammit, he didn't want to hear that sing-song voice right now, especially once he realized that Antonio wasn't in the room with them...

"You stay away from me, bastard." Romano growled, scowling at the blond man sitting by the bed, who was idly picking at the necklace around his neck. Those tainted blue eyes glanced up at him, giving Romano an accusing stare and sending a sharp tingle down his spine.

Francis sighed, shifting himself in his chair so that his legs would be crossed and his hands gently folded atop them. "I'm not going to touch you or anything like that. Antoine would have my neck if I so much as run my fingers across your hand." He smugly grinned, cocking his head to the side as he continued to stare at the Italian giving him knife-like glares. "After all, I believe Antoine has claimed you as his, and would murder _anyone_ who went against him... even _if_ they were in his clan." Romano scoffed, using his arms to lift himself to a sitting position against the pillows piled behind him.

"Clan? What the hell are you talking about, and I'm not _his._"

"Not his, you say? Anyway, a clan, for a Lowlander, is a social group; usually a combination of three different family units with an alpha male and two beta males. Antoine, Gilbert, and I make up the heads of our clan; with little Ludwig under Gilbert's unit...so little Arthur wasn't kidding when he said you knew nothing of the Races." Francis chuckled, leaning forward a bit in response to the questioning sneer across Romano's features. "Would you like me to explain then?"

Romano considered his offer... perhaps if that fuck-face explained some things, he would be able to better understand the hellhole he found himself in. "Fine. Knock yourself out."

"Good, good." Francis sighed, leaning back into his chair. "First of all, all of the Races are _human_, and to make it a little less confusing, I guess you could compare humans to cat breeds. We have many traits that label us in different Races, but in the end, we are all still the same species." He paused, waiting for any type of questions that Romano may have, but smiled at the silence that met him instead. "Let's start with the ones that would be the most essential to you. I'll begin with the Lowlanders, since Antoine is full-blooded, and you exhibit the characteristics of one as well.

"Generally, Lowlanders come from the southern plains of continents, and are very well suited for hot climates, so as a result, they are usually are not able to hold much fat on their bodies and can tan very, very easily; To protect them from the sun of course." Well that made sense to Romano, reminding him of the Mediterranean countries and how they fit that description. "But, unlike many other Races, Lowlanders are classified in the _Feral _Family."

"Feral?" Romano spat. "What the hell, are they like some kind of ape-men or something?"

Francis laughed at his question, completely ignoring the snarl casted in his direction. "No, no _mon ami. _They are labelled in that Family because of their brute strength and behaviours; Lowlanders are _very_ aggressive when it comes to protecting their clans and mates, much like any animal would be, and because of the way they communicate."

"Let me guess; Body language?"

"Exactly, little Lovino. Many Lowlander clans prohibit the use of vocal communication, even between clans of different Races, although it really depends on the Kingdom that the clan is from... _Country_, my dear." Francis added at the query of Romano's brow. "But the usage of this type of language isn't the main reason Lowlanders are classified as they are. Can you tell me how they choose the leader of the clan?"

Romano blinked. "Um..." he muttered, not at all knowing what the right answer would be. "Fighting?"

"Ah, so sweet with your innocence. No, _mon ami_, Lowlanders generally _fight _for the right to the mate of their choosing, with there being a very low population of females in that Race. _Sex_ is used to show the dominant male of a clan." Of course it had to be something perverted like that.

"Don't tell me you ar-"

"Oh no-no-no. _I_ am not the head of my clan." Francis mused, chuckling at the distraught look that washed upon Romano's eyes. "I'm sure you won't want to hear the delicious details, but Antoine proved that _he_ was the leader when we first decided to form this little group of ours." He leaned forward, lowering his lids at the Italian. "But..." he hummed, clicking his tongue against the top of his teeth. "You'll eventually learn firsthand of that man's _stamina_~"

Romano's face painfully flushed, eliciting even more giggles from the perverted blond. "W-what the hell make you think that!"

"Don't tell me you don't see the way Antoine constantly stares at you, not to mention the ways that _you_ act around him. It's pretty evident what is running in that man's mind when he's so affectionate to you, and with the way you're accepting his early cou-"

"W-what about those collar things." Romano suddenly spouted, desperate to change the subject from himself. Francis, on the other hand, smiled, lifting the base of his necklace with the tip of his middle finger.

"Neckwear, such as necklaces, collars and even chains, are worn by Lowlanders to show their Race. They are very proud to be what they are, and as such, many clans have traditions revolving around these articles of clothing; such as keeping the same neckwear until presented with another by a family member, or a mate. Many years ago, it was the law for a rogue Lowlander, or anyone with at least a one-forth blood connection to the Race, to wear some sort of identification when living in populations of a different Race, but that law was abandoned long, long ago. Now, they're simply worn as courtesy or in pride."

"Why was it a law?" Romano asked, unconsciously thinking of that blasted collar Antonio always worn in public. He hated that thing, and its ugliness.

"Because, _mon cher_." Francis replied, his voice holding a gentle tone one would often use with children. "Unlike the other Races, Lowlanders constantly have fluctuations in their hormones. So one moment, they could be perfectly fine, while minutes later, they could go on a rampage."

"So, like mood swings from hell?"

"Yes, you could call it that. Luckily, the most dramatic change in a male Lowlander's mood happens on an annual basis, starting once he hits the marrying age, or about twelve to fourteen years old for that Race." Francis sighed, closing his eyes. "That's also why during that period of time, a male will normally seek a mate since they will be at their most aggressive state, and have…well, a much higher sex-drive. It's just best to let them be during this time. Full-bloods tend to get hit harder with this than anyone else… especially Antoine. The poor man had to go eight years without anyone to properly keep him warm at night, but now that won't be a problem~"

Romano scrunched up his face at Francis, rolling his eyes when the man merely grinned at him. "Don't bring up that shit again. I have _no _interest in that fucker."

"Ah~ But you won't have to worry for a while. Then again, you won't have to worry at all if Antoine's actions just stay with wanting to hug you."

The Italian was… taken back at the softness, and slight disappointment behind Francis' words. "Why the hell is that?" Francis sighed, rolling his head along his shoulders.

"_Je suis désolé_, but it's not my place to speak of such things. I'm only one-forth Lowlander after all, so you'd have to ask a full-blood to fully understand it." Romano grumbled under his breath, not at all happy with the half-assed answer that the perverted man offered him.

"Fine. Then where the hell is that other bastard?"

"Ah, Antoine? He's talking with the cute couple returning from a long trip, who we ran into when bringing you here. One of them happens to be the doctor who often makes sure Antoine stays in tip-top shape; Tino and Berwald Oxenstierna I believe their names are."

Well wasn't that just perfect. Sweden and Finland were here too. Who else would eventually show up? America, Japan, Russia, _Feliciano_?

"Berwald already examined you when you were passed out; he said that you were physically healthy and couldn't determine what was making you sick."

Even better. He was violated in his sleep.

"So they went downstairs to talk, mainly to keep from waking you."

Romano puffed out his cheeks as his lips turn into a pout. "Those bastards didn't need to do that." All that would've really happened would've been the Italian throwing something at Antonio before grumbling to himself and going back to sleep… and waiting for that idiot to crawl in beside him… and to gently hum to him as he drew lazy circles across his back, with his voice droning the Italian into a slumber.

"Antoine wanted to. He wants you to be healthy."

"Yeah, yeah." Damn that bastard and his overwhelming sweetness towards Romano. He sighed, announcing that he was going to try to sleep some more as he cuddled himself back into the covers… a faint blush caressing his cheeks at the thought of Antonio's concern for him…

_Idiot._

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><p><strong>As before, reviews are loved!<strong>

**Lowlander**

_Antonio / Tino- Full blooded_

_Gilbert/Ludwig/Berwald- 1/2_

_Francis- 1/4_

**Highlander (Imagine normal humans who can hear very well. There are lots and lots of them)**

_Arthur- Full blooded_

_Gilbert/Ludwig- 1/4_

**Rockstrider (VERY tall humans who are very good at making intricate things, and best suited for climbing cold mountains)**

_Francis- 3/4_

_Berwald- 1/2_

_Gilbert/Ludwig- 1/4_

**Here are the equivalences for the names. As you can see, I am very lazy when it comes to naming things.**

**City- **Our city

**Nodoln**- _london_

**AU!names- **derived from**- **_our country_

**Alitia**- Italia- _Italy_

**Ispiahna**- Hispaniae-_ Spain_

**Gilana**- Anglia- _England_

**Riuspa**- Prusia- _Prussia_

**Lagial**- Gallia- _France_

**Rengamia**- Germania- _Germany_


	7. Never Could Have Been Worse

**This chapter is in Antonio's point of view but the next one will be in Romano's view again. And the jumbled mess that Romano speaks in this chapter is English... and Antonio does not understand that language. (Romano also spoke English when he had that meltdown in chapter 3)  
><strong>

**Thank you for your patience, reviews, alerts, and everything else! Enjoy the chapter~**

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><p>Lovino was… a very outlandish man, and if Antonio had to describe him in one word, it would have to be… well…<p>

Contradictory.

Not that it was really a bad thing… Antonio actually found it very amusing for the man to swear up and down that he was about to rip his muscles off for touching him, while his eyes could only say _Don't stop, you bastard. Keep touching me __**there~**_Ah, and it was _so_ easy to pinpoint all of Lovino's pleasure points, since whenever he first found the majority of them along his shoulders, neck and scalp, the Alitian would either tremble or flush a violent red and sputter out curses… But he still had to be careful which ones he decided to torture with his hands, due to the oh so faint _moans_ that parted Lovino's lips whenever those certain points were stimulated, like the root of a certain curl on the right side of Lovino's head; the same curl that would gently furl into a heart whenever he was affectionate to the smaller man…and it made Antonio's blood scorch his veins as it surged through his body, only to rush towards certain lower extremities. As long as Lovino never realized just what _exactly_ was going through his head when he made those delicious sounds, he would be okay. At least he hoped so. And when Lovino returned any kind gesture, which Antonio noticed that he would only do to _him_, oh… he couldn't stop thinking of them; like the small hugs he'd give him from behind, or shyly holding his hand in public while claiming it to only be because he didn't want to get lost.

Lovino was just so adorable~

But he could still just be a rampaging fireball of trouble sometimes, that Lovino; always cursing, going against Antonio's opinion, and completely doing the opposite of what he asked, but he knew that it was all an act. Lovino was such a private person, always attempting to cover up his true intentions with the lies of his tongue and constant glares… Hell, even those scowls betrayed him, as Antonio discovered from silently watching the man while he thought he was alone; Lovino had many _different_ types of frowns, despite what he said otherwise. Usually, the one he wore when around the Ispiahnan was the most pleasant. He was happy, no matter what he claimed, and it was evident from the way his face lit up whenever Antonio would gently attempt to gain his attention through light touches and strokes. Not that he couldn't just talk to the man, oh no.

Arthur, that idiot, told Lovino the first night that he wouldn't talk to him because he was nervous or something like that. The fool didn't know Antonio as well as he thought he did. That was only half of the truth, along with a slight mix of his home clan's traditions, but Antonio had gotten out of those stupid habits when he was of the marrying age. There was another reason he didn't want to converse with Lovino on a vocal basis; he looked so much like a little boy he had an enormous _crush_ on when he was a child, hell, he _still_ loved him more than anyone else... even to the point where he felt like a adolescent for becoming so fretful around him.. But, that boy would never leave his memory.

_Lovino Vargas._

Back then, he _never_ talked to the boy, much to the other child's displeasure. Roma, as Antonio nicknamed the kid in his head, would always punch and scream at him for not talking to him, while still clinging to the older boy everywhere he went... and when he did work up the courage to talk to Roma, and to start...well... _**that**_, he simply disappeared along with his clan and Antonio didn't hear one thing about him for the rest of his life... Not even when his home clan was massacred, leaving him wandering around an unknown forest before the oh so kind Kirklands found him and took him in as their own... That is, until he found Lovino under that tree. So Antonio remained silent when around Lovino, hoping that if it truly was Roma as an adult, he would remember the other man for his lack of words, if anything...and when the man claimed that he couldn't remember anything from his past, Antonio's heart surged with both excitement and disappointment... And yes, it _did_ hurt to know how desperately Lovino wanted Antonio to talk to him, but he had to stay determined with his plan... and since Lovino probably believed that he would be more inclined to converse with him when they were around Francis, and Gilbert, once again thanks to that dolt Arthur, he would have to live by that rule until he was absolutely sure Lovino would _accept_ him... perhaps a month or two tops, which was _plenty _of time.

But something deep inside his heart told him that it simply wasn't the Lovino that he grew up with... There was something about him that Antonio just couldn't explain... like he was only an extension of the earth; changed as the countries shifted in culture and opinions, hurt as cities were burned to the ground, and would disappear as the land did...but that was absurd. Obviously, he had been listening to Arthur too much and his mind wasn't thinking as realistically as it should. Personifications of the earth?

Impossible.

But...This Lovino did indeed act as if he knew Antonio his entire life, but it was a different kind of look he constantly gave the Ispiahnan than he would've liked... _Pain_ filled the man's gaze when he _secretly_ stared at Antonio, like seeing someone who mirrored a lost one and he hated more than anything else. Why did Lovino look at him like that? Antonio didn't want Lovino to look so miserable...no. Never. He had a feeling that it had something to do with this _Spain_ word that Lovino constantly cried in his sleep. What was this _Spain_? It had to be a word that meant something of value to Lovino, but it couldn't be someone's name or a place. It was much too strange... maybe it was a name for a family member, like _bruder_ was for the Rengamian language. Come to think of it, Lovino did mention he had a sibling... So did Antonio remind him of his brother... or was it something else that he would never be able to fully comprehend? An old companion…a caretaker… a _lover?_ Or could it be part of a phrase... since whenever Lovino muttered that _word _with the jumbled mess of a language that he often spoke when upset, he would always become a bit more affectionate towards Antonio, but only a bit.

Such as he was doing now, tightly holding onto Antonio in his slumber and muttering that pesky word over and over. It had to be in the middle of the night... and yet, here Antonio was, staring at the gorgeous man in his arms. That's right. _Gorgeous._ Even when the man's brows were furrowed in emotional pain, and his eyes closed so tightly that Antonio thought they would get stuck like that, he still saw the unmistakeable exquisiteness that Lovino held. He could just stare at the man all day long, and it would never get old... there was always something new he could find every time he gazed upon that glistening, oh so beautiful skin, such as the nearly invisible freckles caressing the flesh under his eyes, and the cute way those succulent lashed curled over each other in the corners of his lids. Lovino groaned in his slumber, instinctively burying his face into Antonio's chest to block the traces of moonlight that were constantly splayed across his cheeks and shoulders, and he could only hum in happiness at the action, and at the magnificent smell that drifted up to his nose. How he managed to smell so good all of the time was beyond the comprehension of Antonio. He smiled, allowing Lovino's curls to encase his nose in their wonderful scent; olives and grapes, still hanging on vines caressed by a salt-licked summer wind, faintly accented by the aroma of his skin, much like freshly churned earth and blooming lilies. Lovino constantly smelled nice even after hours of working, where his clothes would be drenched in his sweat, but would he stink like any other man? No. If anything, his earthy scent would be stronger, so Antonio's original thought of exotic perfumes and soap were out of the question...but, the way his hands smelt made his stomach turn over itself. _Blood _and_ fire_ persistently stained the air around his fingers, more when Antonio noticed him grimacing in pain and clutching his hands.

Lovino made a noise in the back of his throat, clutching Antonio closer to him, so much that he could feel the other man's lip twist into a small smile. Oh, why couldn't he be like this when he was awake? Sure, he did allow Antonio to shower him in attention, but...but after a few minutes, he would push him away in a fit of curses and attempt to ignore him for the rest of the day. Especially when Antonio was adamant about not allowing Lovino escape his hugs.

And it hurt when he did that. Was there something wrong with Antonio?

He sighed, running his fingers along the hairline of Lovino's neck before slithering them through the silky dark tresses. "Mmmm...ond't tpos...bsartda..." he groaned in that strange language of his as the larger man brushed against three of his favourite spots to charm Lovino with. Chuckling, Antonio continued stroking the back of Lovino's head, feeling every single strand of hair with the senses only a Lowlander could exhibit, as he drew lazy circles with the tips of his fingers before swirling down to his neck and splaying his hand against the shoulder blades so much smaller than his own. He was so warm, despite being such a small, delicate Lowlander. "mmm..._Spain_... I leov uoy.. os...umch." He grunted, shifting his waist forward a bit as sweat began to bead at his hairline. Antonio frowned. There was that annoying word again and why was his precious Lovino sweating? It was freezing cold, so there could be no way he was h- oh...**oh**. _Now_ he could see... or rather _feel_ why Lovino appeared to be in pain before... ah, how easily he misinterpreted _those _emotions.

Those willowy fingers of the sweltering Alitian dug into his back, matching the very, _very_ mouth-watering pants and breathy moans he excreted at an alarmingly increasing pace. Antonio swallowed the heavy lump forming in his throat once Lovino lazily dragged a certain _painfully hard _body part up and down his leg. It felt quite nice, and oh how Antonio wanted to trace his fingers on the outside of its he-... _No..no... Don't think of things like that_. He chanted to himself, praying that the overwhelming scent of the man in his arms wouldn't drive him over the edge to do something he would regret later. "Ah~ _Spain... mroe... os __**godo~.**_" He whimpered, shifting his head up to Antonio's, leaving only a breath between the two.

Lovino's eyes were slightly parted, allowing Antonio to see the quivering, dilated pupils masked over by lust and the mist of his erotic dream, not to mention his lips were equally parted, gently brushing his moist breath upon Antonio's tingling mouth. Shit... if only he was awake... involuntarily, he imagined the things they would be doing; that soft skin easily moving under the force of his digits, Lovino's lips crushed painfully into his in a fiery dance of passion as their tongues battling for dominance, eventually biting down on his neck like he had done in the park a week before, sparking a fiery blaze of lust from Antonio before he would simply take Lovino, reveling in the thoughts of the beautiful brunet moaning his name in ecstasy as he dragged his hands up those luscious inner thighs and thrus-... _Dammit..._ Antonio cringed when he felt his blood rush downwards, forcing his eyes shut and thinking of unpleasant thoughts to calm his buddy down south. The last thing he wanted was for Lovino to wake up from his obviously pleasurable slumber to see Antonio with an erection pressed into his thigh... Oh god...the shrieks and thrashings he would have to endure, not to mention that his precious little Lovino would kick him out anytime he wanted to share a bed!

Oh, but Antonio did love someone who would fight _back~_.

"Ahmmm, _Sp-Spain..._" Lovino continued even louder than before, electing an annoyed twitch in Antonio's brow. What the hell did that word mean? "_Spain-mmmm..."_ and again with that word... he'd have to question Lovino about it when he was in a relatively good mood. "_Spain, ah-__**Antoniooo~ **__Ksis em ermo~_" Before he even knew what was going on, a pair of soft lips were forced upon his, quickly followed by several fingers entwining themselves in the curls of the back of his head. Antonio's emerald eyes sprung open, deeply contrasted by the violent crimson that spread across his cheeks. His cherished Lovino was... was kissing him! And after saying _his_ name during his sex-filled dream! Oh.. oh-oh-oh, he didn't know what to do, just like the other times Lovino had placed his lips upon Antonio's, but... this kiss was different... it made his heart painfully flutter in his chest with utter bliss instead of burning with frigidness which complimented the two before... maybe... maybe it was because this kiss was dripping with love and passion... instead of ache and sadness... which was why he was so bothered in what he should do, since any kiss he'd had before signaled a greeting, or an act of dominance.

Then their mouths were apart, with Lovino snuggling his nose against Antonio's chest once more, and his breath calming. Sure, his erect penis was still pressed into the larger man's leg, but it seemed that his dream had come to an end for the moment... and hopefully he wouldn't be as _hot_ in the next few minutes, meaning Antonio wouldn't have to worry as much about having to hide stains on his sheets; white, after all, showed up very well on red. Yet, it still left Antonio with _his_ half-excited problem that wouldn't simply go away with Lovino pressed so tightly to his body, and as such, he shifted uncomfortably, trying to create some space between the two men. Perhaps a quick trip outside wouldn't hurt a bit...

Lovino sighed, whispering that word once again... but this time, Antonio found it more endearing. Now, without asking the body in his arms, he could easily believe that the word was directed towards him and that his precious Lovino did indeed remember him after all of these years... just using the term _Spain_ to refer to him, in some weird way. Antonio smiled; gently brushing the threads of hair out from Lovino's closed eyes. Yes... he would be perfect for him. _Perfect_... and he knew that starting early would not hurt at all.

"My beloved Roma..." Antonio whispered in his ear, enjoying how Lovino shivered under his breath, and whimpered when he placed a small kiss on the lobe, "I'll make you remember me, and you'll be mine, just like we promised so many years ago." Vigilantly, he tore himself from Lovino's grasp, making his way downstairs and out the back door to relieve himself of his _problem_, grinning as he did so. Yes... Lovino would be_ his_ and _only_ his...After all...

Antonio always got what he wanted.

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><p>Overwhelming coldness was the first thing that decided to greet Antonio the next morning, much to his displeasure. He would much rather be woken up by Lovino clutching to him in the early sun, protesting and cursing the sun for <em>getting off its ass so early in the fucking morning<em>, usually forgetting that the orb of fire couldn't hear him and wouldn't change its schedule to fit his. Nevertheless, Antonio groaned, stretching out and batting his hand on the bottom of his bed-table...

Wait... ugh.

Somehow, he was on his cold, not very comfortable floor... He sighed, knowing exactly what happened, and decided it was time to get up anyway; there was a lot of work that needed to be done anyway, so getting them started now would leave more time for him to spend with Lovino...who wasn't in the overly large bed so early in the morning...strange. Antonio stretched his limbs to the ceiling, enjoying every pop sparking along his spine and shoulders that relieved the pain pricking at those areas on a daily basis, and not long after, a drawn out sigh erupted from his mouth. God, he needed a bath. So, with a sniff and a quick scratch to his stomach, Antonio pulled his sleeping shirt over his head, leaving him only in his old, linen and slightly yellow with age, underwear. He sighed once the cold air bit at his tanned skin, missing the time where he could spend the entire year in a smouldering hot sun, but there was no use worrying about the past; the future constantly welcomed him with open arms, presenting him with opportunities his past never would've been able to provide. Ah~ and such good opportunities that they were.

After grabbing one of the rough linen towels from his closet, since Lovino had confiscated all of his cotton ones during his first bath in the house, Antonio sluggishly made his way down the stairs. Emptiness greeted him at the base of the steps. Well, this was partially expected since Arthur usually woke up an hour after the sun rose, unlike Antonio, but where was Lovino? His door had been wide open, allowing the Ispiahnan to peek in, only to find that it was empty... Meh. Antonio shrugged it off, figuring that Lovino was off scampering around the forest to find an acceptable place to piss. He'd surely run into him on the way to the spring, and as such, he would invite the shorter man to join him in a bath...though they'd have to share a towel, but Antonio really had no complaints about that. He would have the privilege of seeing the Alitian naked and dripping with water, perhaps even gaining the honour of washing his back. So cute little Lovino would be, flushing a violent red as Antonio gently scrubbed at the dirt and sweat that had gathered over the week, all while discreetly trailing the whitest of the scars lining that silky, taut skin. Oh how happy he would be if that truly did happen...but alas, he knew it probably wouldn't, considering how reserved Lovino came to be during such things...The touching while naked part; he had no problem with being in the nude although it had been a good two weeks since he allowed anyone to see him without so much as a shirt.

Antonio hummed, musing to himself every time Lovino batted his hands away, screaming profanities if he tried to hug the shirtless man. He carelessly slung his towel over his shoulder and merrily ambled through the empty rooms, sighing as the soft pats his bare feet made on the frigid wooden floors were the only company he had. Once he made it past the dining room table, he paused for only a moment. The door to the sun lounge was strangely ajar, even though it was only by the smallest amount; normally, Arthur insisted upon it remaining closed during the night... meaning someone could've been in there, and that someone could be Lovino. Wouldn't hurt to check, now would it? So, using the tips of his feet so he wouldn't make any unnecessary noise, he stepped into the door frame, and gently pried the door open with his shoulder. Sure enough, Lovino was quietly nestled under the largest window of the room, not surprisingly his favourite corner since it was the warmest and had the most sunlight streaming in through the carefully crafted glass. Pillows of all colours and sizes cocooned his bulk in a pod of comfort, facilitating the gentle fingers of slumber caressing his body... but why was he down here instead of in Antonio's bed? His soft lips were bent down into a frown, complimented by the slight furrow in those nicely kept brows and they only deepened as he twitched, curling tighter into the loose ball his body formed around the faded red pillow.

Something about him suddenly caught Antonio's attention...something...something _big_ was off about Lovino, but he couldn't even begin to lay a finger on it. He had absolutely no idea why, but the strange aura that constantly seemed to loom around the man was just..._different_ this morning than it was a few hours before. For some reason... it seemed more _human_. Lovino grumbled slurs in his slumber, shifting his head against the main seam of the pillow and forcing tresses of his hair to slip across his pink spattered cheeks... those luscious strands of hair cascading down from his scalp...they seemed _darker_ than when he first met the man. No...no... It had to be his imagination or a change in the light. But nonetheless, it still bothered him, even as Lovino whined and snuggled his face deeper into the pillow. Ah~ he was so cuddly when he slept.

That still didn't help the fact that Antonio needed to rinse the dirt and sweat off his skin... All to make his little Lovino happy in the end, after all, the smaller man would constantly complain about how sweaty Antonio smelled, even though he would still snuggle right next to him before falling sleep. So with a half-hearted smile, he gently eased out of the brightly lit lounge and made his way to the bathing room as a change of heart, wanting to return to the slumbering man as quickly as possible.

So fresh, and clean he was after the long and cold bath, thanks to the water deciding not to cooperate with him, remaining frigid as it was pumped from the source outside. Although he refrained from using his expensive soaps and oils, choosing to save them for the special occasion in the next few days, he still grew exceptionally excited on how sweet little Lovino would compliment on his cleanliness with brash, lackadaisical insults...followed by averted eyes, an adorable blush and a hushed grumble. Not to mention, he would allow Antonio to embrace him without as much of a fuss after he was _sanitary_. He hummed with anticipation, nearly jogging out of the bathing room, and across the kitchen area only to find a pair of acid green eyes staring up at him from the dining room table. "Lovino seems fretful this morning." Arthur muttered, taking a sip from the cup neatly tucked between his willowy fingers while flickering his eyes back on the papers laid before him, each marking their monthly income and profits at the market each week. Without a single word, or even a glance, he motioned at towards the empty cup placed in from of the chair across from him.

Hmm. So Arthur wanted to have a small chat about something? While he'd much rather ignore the insufferable blond and return to Lovino, who may be awake now and probably in one of his usual grumpy moods in the morning, But, Antonio decided that he might as well amuse Arthur. It would keep him off his back for menial things, but whether he shared his own words or not depended on the topic and bush brow's degree of bitchiness. Wrapping his towel around his shoulders, he took the seat in front of Arthur as the other housemate poured him some tea into the cup... even though he knew very well it wasn't Antonio's favourite drink in the world, but, if just for the sake of trying to keep the bastard pleased, he grunted a brisk thank you and folded his fingers around it's warm base. Arthur sighed, instantly forcing a frown on Antonio's lips.

"I know he moved into your room late last night..._again_." he bit the final word with a roll of his eyes before allowing them to pierce Antonio's equally annoyed orbs. What should it matter what Lovino decided to do at night? He was an adult, just like the other men in the household, and if he wanted to move into Antonio's bed at night, then so be it. "As a result, I must assume that whatever is making him so nervous this morning has something to do with you. _What_ did you do to him, Antonio?"

"I did nothing." The brunet spoke, matching the low, dangerous voice that poured from Arthur's mouth. His eyes narrowed at the shorter man, his brain firing off everything from _did he hear Roma's moans? _To _if he even thinks about touching Roma, __**my**__**Roma**__, I'll kill him. _

Arthur scoffed, stacking the papers into a pile and setting them off to the side. "Don't play a fool with _me_, boy." He snarled, his tongue flicking off his teeth with enough bite to sink his words into Antonio's skin. "I am not Gilbert, and I am not _Francis._" Arthur hunched over the table, his knuckles scraping against the wood and cracking under his weight as he shifted into an arched position. "I will not stand for these types of actions. Now tell me, _**what**__ did you __**do **__to __**him**_!"

Antonio growled, and his lips curled back to reveal his sharp teeth, each ready to tear at Arthur's flesh if it came down to it. "I did _**nothing**_to Lovino, Arthur. Get it into your thick skull." He kept his voice low, his breath seething through his teeth gritting so much that pain welled up in his jaw. How dare he... _how __**dare**__ he_ think that he would harm his treasured Lovino.

"Then why the hell is he acting the way that he is!" Arthur's snarled, finally rising the rest of his body out of his chair, sending it flying back and toppling over. Instinctual ferocity ripped through Antonio's veins; the raised voice, the tension and aggression in his stance, the furious grimace warping his face, _everything_ screamed _threat, challenge _and_ exterminate_ at the brunet, sparking several nerves to pour scalding sensations down his back and arms. No.. he couldn't throttle Arthur like he desired to do _oh_ so much. _Lovino_ was still in the household... and he had no idea how the other man would react if he saw this _side_ of him unleashed on the bastard deserving of his wrath. He _had_ to remain calm.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Antonio gruffly exhaled, desperate to keep his temper under reasonable control, barely even able to limit it by the thin string it was already breaking. But would that bastard leave it at that? No. He just _had_ to keep edging Antonio on and on, as if he got some kind of pleasure luring out his darker, nastier side.

"You idiotic twit, I already asked him and whenever I brought up your name he would became flustered and ran off! Don't tell me you thought he was asleep and _molested_ him!"

Remember that line? Well, it snapped along with burned to nothing but ashes, allowing a snarling and absolutely furious Antonio to leap from his chair, jump across the table and slam Arthur into the wall by his throat. Unfortunately for the blond, he was a good foot shorter than Antonio, leaving his legs dangling in the air and his breath shallower with every second that passed. "_You bastard_!" Antonio roared, tightening his grip on that slender neck. "I should kill you for even suggesting that I would do _that _to Lovino!"

"Shut your trap." He screeched back at Antonio, clawing at the bare arms connected to the massive hands hanging him on the wall. "I heard those moans he was making last night, so don't give me that _shit_!" Every single muscle in Antonio's face scrunched up into such a hellish fury that it could've burned a hole through the wall, but rather, he slung Arthur across the room. The man slammed into one of the priceless statues tucked away in the corner of the dining room, effectively cracking the marble in the process as he groaned in pain, clutching his head. "Get out." He mumbled, staring at the floor as if he wasn't even sure where he was anymore.

Antonio didn't even need him to repeat before he stormed out of the room, up the stairs and slammed his door open, snarling as he tore through his clothes to find something to wear. Dirty, old, new, clean, he didn't give a shit. He was fed up with all of the shit that Arthur constantly gave him and those two simple words were more than enough of a reason for him to actually listen for one. Fuck that bastard. He knew he wouldn't last long without Antonio there to baby him like the spoiled brat he was, and for him to carry the heavy loads to market and back. Antonio snatched up a shirt, throwing it on his body as he searched for a pair of trousers. He honestly hoped that the idiot bastard would choke on his own blood, showing the world how much of a witch he truly was in contrast to the _gentleman_ image he tried to force everyone to think. Another article of clothing found its way onto Antonio's skin. He would leave, and never come back... nev-

"Bastard, w-what the hell happened down there?" He froze at the livid voice echoing from his door, but it did nothing to soothe the rage surging throughout his entire body. Lovino... his precious Lovino would be in danger...if he remained. What if he got caught in one of Antonio's violent mood swings...Oh god...Antonio..he...he had no idea what would become of the boy. Would he harm Lovino just as he did Arthur? What would he do? Punch him? Sling him across the room? _Rape_ him? Oh no... no-no-no-no. He _needed_ to get as far away as he could from Lovino, and he needed to do it _now_... but he couldn't just leave the man...without...letting him _know_ how... how...dammit.

Antonio slowly turned towards the Alitian once he finished securing his clothes on his body, gulping down the raging anger and guilt bubbling up his throat. Oh how pitiful Lovino looked, clutching to that red pillow, still dressed in one of Antonio's longer shirts while his face was practically pouring concern and panic...he was...terrified of the taller man, his entire body trembling under his miserable stare. Oh god, Lovino... he didn't want to leave him, but it was for his own safety... and maybe even he would be happier without such a violent man in his life. So with careful steps, Antonio slowly made his way over to his loved one, his heart tearing at the sight of the tears running down the smaller man's cheeks. _Don't cry, Roma._ He stopped, brining his hands up to those tear stained cheeks. Lovino sniffed, staring up at Antonio with eyes that could've broken a cold hearted killer. "I heard yelling... and then a loud noise." Well that wasn't a surprise... Antonio hummed at Lovino, gently wiping away the tears with the balls of his thumbs. Never had he allowed the other man to comfort him like this, actually allowing him to touch his face while he was shedding tears... There _was_ something different about Lovino today but...but it didn't matter anymore. _This _would most likely be the last time he'd ever see his beloved Lovino, and he had to make it something that he could always cherish and remember. Fuck that earlier plan he had. He had to do it now, or he'll never get the chance to do it ever again. Lovino blinked a few times before sniffing and nuzzling his cheek into Antonio's palm. "You don't smell like sweat anymore...idiot."

He sighed, allowing his face to slowly dip closer down to Lovino's. Those oh so gorgeous eyes widened at the small movement, carefully watching for his next move...anticipating it with an underlying layer of consent Antonio doubted he even realised was twisting behind those olive eyes. "I did it for you, my love. I do _everything_ for you." Antonio whispered against Lovino's mouth, and before his breath properly hitched in his throat, his lips gently pressed against the smaller, softer and rosier ones. Just as expected, Lovino froze and dropped the pillow onto his feet. He never wanted it to end, this warm feeling pooling up inside of him...but he knew it had to. For his own good. After gently drawing Lovino closer to his body, Antonio released him from both his hold and his mouth, but not from his gaze. "I'm sorry." He whispered, his heart tearing at the hurt and confused emotions playing a horrible game against Lovino's face... he couldn't take it anymore. So without a word or a second glance, Antonio pushed past him, quickly made his way down the stairs and sprinted out the front door.

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><p><strong>If anyone cannot figure out what Romano is saying, just say so and I'll reply with the unscrambled version of his words.<strong>

**More random stuff (there just might be some of this at the end of every chapter)**

Romano- **5ft 7.8in (172.2cm)**

Spain- **5ft 9in (175.3cm)**

Antonio- **6ft 4in (193 cm)**

**Reviews are loved~**


	8. When the Wind Stopped

**From now on, chapters will probably be shorter, just for various reasons(I just wanted to be mean this chapter), but that also means there will likely be more than I originally planned.**

**That also means that they may be coming out faster too, if college allows me the time. I'm sorry if people don't like this.**

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><p>…Oh god he had no idea what the fuck he should do. Antonio had…had <em>kissed <em>him and...and _spoke_ to him…then just fucking _left_ him standing there in the doorway of his room. Romano's heart swirled with so many fucking emotions; he couldn't tell what the hell was happening even as he felt his face burn like someone dunked it in scalding water. What the hell were those two arguing about after Romano retreated to his room? He pivoted around, dashing down the stairs in such a flurry that he nearly tumbled down the last few steps and wretched the front door open. "H-holy shit!" Snow, and a shit-ton of it at that, blasted into the opened entryway, drenching Romano in the frosty wind and white flakes. There was a fucking _blizzard_ terrorizing the earth outside, and Antonio was out in that shit? Oh no… he would _die_ out there, even if he did remember to grab his coat before he stormed out and that would only help him if he didn't stay out in the horrible weather for long. Bitter panic settled into Romano's bones. That dumb shit wouldn't go to Francis' or Gilbert's house…no, even Spain didn't do that when he was really angry. The bastard would go to one of the places he claimed to be so _special_ to his heart, and sit there until someone found him; even if it was raining, or thundering, or flooding… _Shit, _he needed to go after him before he died of fucking hypothermia, but he couldn't go in his current attire, or alone…

Dammit. What the hell would he do? Phones didn't exist yet and everyone he knew lived in the city, which was a good bit away! Romano slammed the front door shut, pressing his back against it before sliding down to the floor; tears pricked at his eyes and his throat burned with the trepidation that fermented in his stomach. He couldn't do this single-handedly…but who could help him? Arthur wouldn't most likely, just from the fact that he probably was still seething with irritation…but…but he had to find that bastard. With a shaking hand tightly pressed against the door, Romano forced himself to his feet, his face contorted with a fierce glare of determination. He wouldn't let this bastard die on him too, especially since he _could_ do something about it this time. Never again would he let a loved one perish, even if it meant he had to risk his own life. "Arthur!" he bellowed, quickly making his way into the dining room, where he last saw the blond male. "_Arthur_!" Romano shouted once more, his voice tingeing with urgency and anger.

"What the _bloody hell_ do you want!" Arthur yelled back, leaning against the frame of the archway separating the rooms and clutching his head.

"Where would Antonio run off to?"

Arthur scoffed, flinching at a pain that throbbed in the back of his scalp. "Don't tell me you would care about someone who violated you…"

What the hell was that idiot talking about? "Violated! That bastard _never_ touched me!" Well…at least not the way Arthur had accused him of, but Antonio still found ways to make his body squeal in pleasure…such as a simple fucking shoulder rub…which he still needed to repay the bastard for. Dammit, he couldn't do that if he was dead!

"He _didn't_ touch you? Then what in the world were those noises from, and why were you so cautious about being near him!" Noises? There weren't any noi-oh… T-th-hat _dream_… oh god, Romano must've actually moaned throughout the night from that delicious dream about Spain wreaking havoc upon his deprived body with his hands, lips, and well…_**that**_… Spain did always say he sleep-talked when he had good dreams… And when he woke up to find Antonio embracing him so tightly, oh his brain decide to torture him with images of Spain fucking him senseless, and that was one thing he didn't want to think about…that was why he kicked Antonio out of the fucking bed, and scampered his little ass down into the sun lounge... so he wouldn't have to be so close to the bastard who reminded him so much of something…_someone_ he could never have…and so the idiot couldn't cuddle him whenever his face burned a vibrant red just from the sight of his gorgeous, god-like mug. Oh god… did he really just think that?

"T-those noises…" Romano stammered, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. "I had a very…a…a dream and every time I saw that bastard…it reminded me of it."

"A dream!…Ah, bloody _fucking _hell." Arthur growled, dragging his feet as he scurried across the living area and towards the staircase, stopping at the door to his bedroom. "Get changed, Lovino. The faster we get out there, the faster we bring that git back here. The twit runs fast, so we need to hurry, before he gets too far away."

And with that, Romano scrambled up the stairs, tugging off his nightshirt before he even made it to the door…but he paused once he got to his bed, staring at the cloth in his hands, doubt tearing at the seams of his mind. What if they couldn't find Antonio before he succumbed to the winter…what if it would be too late no matter what they tried? He wouldn't have that bastard constantly adoring him, or tenderly caring for him whenever his body burned with the pain the idiot would never understand…and oh, how he loved it when Antonio would massage his aching hands with those wonderful smelling oils he owned. But now wasn't the time to be reminiscing about how outstanding Antonio was with those nimble fingers of his, he _needed_ to get off his sorry ass and put on some warm clothes. Romano tore through the garments in his closet, desperately searching for the warmest that Berwald fashioned for him, and with a _ha_ in victory, he pulled the thick wool shirt over his head, quickly followed by a vest and a pair of trousers double layered with cotton. He grabbed his work boots and a pair of thick socks on his way out of his room, tugging them on as he bounded down the stairs.

Arthur was slipping on his coat when he reached the bottom, muttering and grumbling under this breath every time one of the buttons didn't fasten the first time, and when he noticed Romano approaching him, he handed the male his jacket. "Any idea where the git would be?" Arthur asked, watching as Romano tugged his arms though the sleeves.

"Somewhere he considers special…I guess." Romano quickly added, growing nervous of the suspicious look Arthur gave him…which he _had_ been doing a lot of ever since he passed out a week before…and it unnerved Romano.

"Why would you say that?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes at the brunet.

Romano fidgeted under his stare. "J-just a guess?"

"How long have you _really_ known Antonio?"

Oh _shit_… he really did know something was up.

"Your behavior around him, and his around you… it's not normal for people who have only known each other for twenty-five days. You act as if you have loved him your entire life." _Loved_? Oh god...no... he didn't just say _that_. Love, of all things? Romano didn't love _Antonio_...No, he l...l-loved _Spain_ and only _Spain._ Antonio was just an idiot constantly trying to get his attention.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He retorted, reaching for the door, but Arthur seized his wrist.

"I know you're hiding something. I'm not an idiot like Antonio." The blond haired bastard stated, holding Romano by the arm as he bore those acid green eyes into his skull, prying past the many walls he had set up over the past few weeks...and he struck a nerve, causing Romano to flinch and a cold sweat to gather at the back of his neck. He hated whenever that bastard did that to him. "_But_...seeing as we have more pressing issues to attend to...I'll let it pass. _For now_."

Well...Romano was certainly taken back by Arthur's passiveness on the subject...And what the hell were they wasting their time on this shit for! _Antonio_ was still out there in that fucking blizzard being the stubborn, senseless bastard he was! Arthur released Romano, taking a step back as he waited for the Italian to open the main door, although his beady green eyes never stopped staring at him, successfully sending a shiver down his spine. Romano glanced back at him for a moment, unsure if he truly wanted to bare his back to the man...but seeing as he had no other choice, Romano sighed and wretched the door ajar, gasping at how quickly the cold breached his clothing; he stood there momentarily, actually questioning if Antonio was worth going out into a fucking blizzard to make sure he didn't die...

Well, if anything, if Antonio _did_ kick the bucket, Romano's nights would be a lot colder... and he wouldn't have someone to snuggle up to on the couch during cold afternoons to keep him warm during his siesta...or to stare at as he slept...or to make him feel as if he really did matter...God dammit. That bastard relentlessly cared for Romano with every last bit of energy he had, and what did he get in return? Curses, punches and insults... Antonio didn't deserve those; neither did he deserve to die alone in the weather he despised the most...and...and...No...he wouldn't...couldn't think of how he _personally_ would feel. He _had_ to go find that idiot...

It was the least he could do in return for all of the bastard's constant affection.

Romano took a careful step into the foot high snow, thankful that it wasn't any higher at the moment, but it was building very, _very_ quickly, and Arthur followed behind without any hesitation. "Where would he go?" he shouted, not even sure if the blond could hear him.

"How the hell would I know!" Arthur shouted back, slamming the door as he exited the house. "_You're_ the one constantly with him!" ...He was...wasn't he? How did he never notice that? "You said somewhere he held close to his heart, so it should be anywhere you two had something special going on." But there was a problem with that; the only places they actually had any moments that Romano could call even remotely special were in the building behind the two men...This wasn't good.

"Let's try the market. Maybe we could find someone to help us, or ask if anyone has seen him." Romano could barely make out the nod Arthur gave him, but it would have to suffice. They had a long way to go...and a short amount of time to do it.

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><p><em>We need to stay together! If we get separated, it would be easy for one of us to die!<em>

Yeah, if only Romano actually listened to that fucker and tried to stay with him. If he did, he wouldn't be lost in some fucking city where he had no idea where the fuck he was going, he wouldn't be getting confused over the smallest things, he wouldn't be trembling like some cat in the rain with a miserable amount of tears streaming down his cheeks...and he swore his core temperature was dropping at a much faster rate than it should've been. He was a _nation_, not some weak little human. Why was this shit happening?

Snow blanketed every fucking thing by the time he made it to Nodoln, at least that's what he believed and the sheets that rained down on the earth made it nearly impossible to distinguish a tree from a bench. "_Antonio_!" Romano called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, his face already stinging and his voice aching from the icy bite of the wind. Only the gale answered, laughing at him and the desperate mess he had become; it felt like hours since he had lost Arthur, and even longer since he could even vaguely recognize where he was.

"_A-Antoniooo_!" he cried out at the top of his lungs before choking on his own tears that streamed down his face and collected the passing snow. Shivering like a fucking leaf caught in a hurricane, Romano gathered the coat closer to his body in an attempt to conserve what warmth he had left, not that it really mattered; the cold couldn't kill him, but damn if it didn't make him hurt like a bitch...but that wasn't his main problem at the moment. "_Antonio! Where the fuck are you!_"

He still had no reply... More harsh, jagged coughs tore their way out of his throat, ravaging his lungs and his stomach as each bore tiny black dots into his vision, forcing him to blink multiple times before his sight was clear again. This wasn't good...oh god this was _not _good. It wouldn't be much longer until he passed out from the lack of heat, and the storm was only getting worse and worse. "_A-Anton-nio!_" he barely managed to scratch from his throat, feeling the strength leave his legs with each wobbly tread through the knee-deep snow. God, his fingers felt like they were about to fall off, and the same could be said about his toes but he _had_ to keep moving. Romano screamed out that name again, pausing as the harsh wind blasted his ears with its arctic fingers before crying out the same thing he'd been howling for an eternity, but as each echo received no reply, the willpower that had been the only thing keeping him going cracked and slowly morphed into desperation and deep, utter confusion.

Why was he out there in the cold...

Where was he...

No...no he had to remember that curly haired bastard and find him before he...he...

Who was he looking for?

..._Antonio.._.

Romano took a step forward, stumbling and falling into the wall of snow at his feet. Dammit...it was fucking cold and it clung to him when he attempted to drag himself back to his feet.

By now, his eyes burned from both tears and the icy knives stabbing them, blurring what little sight he had as he trudged on into deeper and deeper snow and away from the blobs of grey that he hoped to be buildings... "_Anto...to-tonio..._" he slurred, no longer having the voice to screech at the top of his lungs, or even half of their capacity. "Ant-tonio you bast-tard..." White...white was all that Romano could see...in front of him...behind him...below and above. _Where am I..._ he wondered, letting out shallow breaths against every gasp. He blinked, staring down at his numb fingers, barely able to make out the blistering red of his skin spotted with white, blue and yellow through the curtains of ice. Bringing them to his face, he kneeled into the snow, unable to move his legs any further than the ice encasing them...strangely enjoying the coldness on his skin. It dampened the desperation raging in his body, calming him...soothing him with its hypnotic appendages, and he wanted to be closer to it...

To have it covering his entire body...

To have...

Ha-ve..to...

To...An..to...

...

...

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><p>"..and those are the demands of the newly established Spanish States. The moment that the specified nation is next seen, he is to be taken into custody. Any questions?" Germany droned on and on, losing the attention of England in the process. <em>Everyone<em> knew of those silly demands of the humans in charge of the _Spanish States_, as every named the new cluster of countries, and quite frankly, nobody really gave a damn...Well, except for a few other nations who actually cared for the poor lad...unfortunately, England was not one of them, yet he still had to deal with daily annoyances of certain people he'd rather see dead. Such as that frog; _France._ Ever since Romano's disappearance, he'd been acting stranger than normal...random trips out to Belarus and Russia, avoidance of Italy, an overabundance of visits to the Spanish States... and his perversion calmed to a level that could actually be compared to Canada's... England definably was _not_ the same as these younger, _ignorant_ nations, and could clearly see that he was altered...actually, he was acting the same way months before Romano left the planet. It was a bit strange, and disappointing that no one had pointed it out yet...but England just didn't care. He was too busy dealing with the state of Europe's economy and helping America with his...well, that and prying into Romano's life on a daily basis, only to find the dolt alone or with a younger version of Germany...which Italy actually became jealous over the first time.

Speaking of that overly happy idiot, he was actually very quiet as of late, even though he was looking healthier and healthier each passing day...well the personification anyway. The weather was still out of control, along with the mafia down in Sicily and Calabria, who, by Italy's words himself, had an atypical ally aiding them in their search for Romano, who apparently had more of a hold on them than he let on...but he also mentioned that their ally _knew_ Romano wasn't on this planet...without ever telling him who it was. Damn how Italy always avoided giving him vital information.

England sighed, leaning heavily on his palm as he listened to America's pathetic attempt to help the world with his stupid plans. On, and on and on the child would go...never fully noticing that England and perhaps Germany were the only ones who ever paid attention to him, and stupidly accepting their silence as compliance to his idiotic plans. He could be such a tit sometimes... "Yo..Dude.." America suddenly stopped his tirade, staring off to the left side of the room. "Are you... Are you okay, man?" Now that certainly had nothing to do with his speech before...England followed America's eyes to the spot directly under the eastern window, and a chill instantly settled over his skin.

Italy..oh Italy...

He was shaking horribly; his chocolate eyes wider than he'd ever known they could stretch, and he was clutching his heart with so much force, it was amazing that he wasn't tearing his shirt in some way. He opened his mouth...but only a screeching groan escaped his lips as his eyes rolled back in his sockets, exposing the white sclera surrounding his irises. "F-f-fratell-l-lo" Italy stammered out, his face slamming down on the table over and over, as his shoulders and arms convulsed with every gasp escaping his lungs. Germany was already at his side, attempting to calm his body while the other nations stood in a panic, each having no earthly idea what was going on. In the corner of his eyes, England noticed France slip out of the room but it really didn't matter at the moment. Something very, _very_ bad had happened to Romano...and he needed to know _now_.

As discreetly as he could, England slip the phone out of his pocket, frantically messaging the only other person, besides Italy and himself, who knew about the location spell locked away in his basement, and thankfully had nothing to do with the meeting England was currently stuck in.

_Go check on Romano now. Italy is having what looks like a seizure and this could mean something terrible has happened. Report asap._

The message sent with a flash illuminating his fingers, and with that, he slipped it back into his pants, turning his attention back to the convulsing Italian. He continued to spew out nonsense, not one word making any comprehensible sense to the Briton. "_Rom-m-m-a-n-no è__mo-mo-mortooo"_

England frowned, piecing together the jumbled words.

_Romano è__ morto..._

_Morto_... in Latin..that was a lot like... his eyes widened.

Oh god...

_Romano is dead._


	9. That was Then

**Had a few hours of nothing to do on campus...so I finished typing this up. Half of it was already done when I posted the last chapter (since it was originally part of that chapter), and it became longer than I anticipated...  
><strong>

**Thanks for all of the reviews, favs and alerts! They made me really happy~**

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><p>Pure sheets of white and a faintly darker blob of grey and brown were the only things Japan could see in the shimmering frame materialized before him. With all of the constant drama occurring in Europe, Italy and England asked him to aid in watching Romano, since he literally the only one they felt they could trust with such an important secret, and since he had <em>nothing<em> to do these days, with a booming economy and all. Although...this was only the second time he peered into the universe Romano had been banished to. He frowned, nearly blinded by the sheer brightness England's spell could create despite the lack of energy that it produced, and he searched the whiteness for any signs of life. Sighing, he took a seat by one of the tables England graciously placed for him whenever first peeked into Romano's life, and flipped open his laptop...to see if there was any such way he would manipulate the image's angle on the world, so it wouldn't resemble the angles from some of his country's survival-horror games, but...unfortunately, he still couldn't form a program that would work properly with it. He was fortunate enough to even have permission from England and Italy for this task, and he felt honoured to have it, especially since he was worried about his friend...even if it still took him an hour to reach England's secluded home.

Glancing back at the image, he sighed once more, disappointed that his eyes only met the white slate. Was it some kind of malfunction? No...couldn't be; this wasn't a machine after all, and if it was, he would be able to fix it. Japan frowned, perplexed by the nature of the spell as his fingers danced along the keys of his phone, typing out a message before it was sent to England.

_I don't know if the spell is acting correctly, but I don't see Romano. I only see white._

Troubling indeed. Japan squinted his eyes, still attempting to make out any different shapes or colours in the white abyss, but nothing appeared to be different. A beep echoed in the room, and his attention flickered down to the tiny piece of plastic in his hand.

_Well something happened to the lad, otherwise Italy wouldn't still be screaming that he's dead and thrashing on the floor. Look harder._

_Dead? Impossible. _Japan sighed once more, returning his gaze to the illuminated space before him just to see no-...what's this? There seemed to be two dark shadows, one much smaller than the other, moving across the white canvas. Faint blotches of gold marred the white perfection, and the taller shadow had kneeled down before the faint grey spot Japan noticed before, and shifted it around, making the grey morph into a dark brown. It cleared a bit, from the environment or the spell, he couldn't tell, but a patch of Mediterranean coloured space that was toned a slight blue, and a bit of snow pattered brown that sat atop the flesh spattering fluttered helplessly in the wind. Just what was that? He leaned forward, watching carefully as the figures came into focus and actually surprising the nation. Mirror images of Sweden and Finland were standing in the white mess, which he now assumed to be snow, with the taller man holding onto another person, slowly gathering him into his arms and wrapping him in what he could of his jacket. _Finland_ muttered something to _Sweden, _peering over the other man's massive arms in an attempt to catch a glimpse of who he was holding before bringing his hands to his mouth and shouting off into the distance.

Was that...was that him? Japan frowned, trying to make out any fine details; sun kissed skin, dark hair parted above the left eye...a curl fluttering in the wind above a face usually covered with scowls and glares...oh god...it really was _Romano_...but what happened? His nation spirit was still alive; Japan could feel it through the spell, how, he had no earthly idea, but the extent that he could sense Romano both...fell and risen. The tie to the universe had indeed been strengthened over the month but...Romano...there was something terribly different about him. Japan scanned over his body, mentally calculating the proportions of his body compared to Sweden's...how... was Romano _taller...by an inch in a little less than a month_? And his hair...it was much darker than it had been the last time Japan checked up on him, there was no doubt about it. It utterly perplexed the black-haired nation, even as Sweden carried the man off somewhere with an anxious Finland following close behind.

_Romano seems to be in the care of a Swedish looking man...would there be any reasons one's physical appearance may change while in another universe?_

Japan eagerly watched the two manoeuvre the white abyss without any problem what so ever while he waited his reply, making small notes of how easily they passed obstacles...Just like the real Sweden and Finland... and the beep in his hand nearly made him jump out of his skin.

_How is Romano fairing? Italy is still freaking out..._

_And only humans change to resemble their alternate selves when in a different universe than their original, and the change is instant. Nations hold on to the ties of their people, so they won't change at all._

Frowning, Japan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, thinking of an appropriate response to his island friend. Romano wasn't moving at all. Not his chest, not his hands, nothing. It was...frightful, seeing such a dear friend in a state like that, and from the reactions of the nation doppelgangers, he could only assume the worst...even though it was technically impossible for their kind. The human bodies of nations could _not_ die from any type of weather; only from a wound from a separate personification, an attack on their land, or a document from their government could leave a Country in such a state. Beheadings from humans never worked, for they could not break through the spine, nor could asphyxiation take their breath; a nation's connection to the earth left them impervious to the elements, and manmade machinery couldn't break through the layers of protection surrounding any vital organ...

_I can't tell how Romano is for now. Everything is moving too quickly and the angle of the spell isn't helping._

So what caused Romano to enter such a condition? Countless times, Japan had seen Romano in much worse state and they never even made Italy flinch...so...was he really dead? It pained his mind to try to comprehend what was originally thought to be impossible...

_Italy won't shut up, so we're going to come to you. There has been a snowstorm, so it may take a good hour or two to get there. It will be just us._

_...  
><em>

_Snowstorm...how ironic._

Well, at least they didn't have to worry about dying like the humans did...

* * *

><p>"L..no."<p>

Ugh...what the hell was that fucking noise, all loud and garbled, accented by an annoying high pitched _screech_ that made him want to punch the nearest thing, and how dare it just come along like some fucking idiot, interrupting Romano's nap like that...but he couldn't move his body through the stupid lethargy that encased it to cover his hears and...his body was cold...and...and his heart had stopped...Technically...

He was dead...but how?

But he was still conscious...meaning only his body, _human_ body, had died momentarily from the snowstorm...but that had never happened before to any nation in history...Only humans died from the elements...Ugh. How he hated when his body would reanimate itself, repairing any damage to it as blood slowly pushed itself through his veins, reforming any torn muscle or appendages, and sewing together shattered bones. Thankfully, not being the result damage to his homeland, his wounds would heal fairly quickly, meaning any pain would last only a few moments and not leave any scars. This brain was the first thing to awaken, strangely enough, allowing him to listen to the jumbled sounds around him...without them noticing at all.

Romano heard wailing...a deep howl of pain right in front of him...though it was muffled by something thick, much like a body. "Lovino...oh Lov-Lovino..." Pressure...on his chest... followed by what felt like warmth and dampness. "It's all my fault...if I never left that damn house..." The person gripped tighter to the front of Romano's clothes, burying their face deeper into his chest...breath cascaded over his prickling skin, warming it for a moment before it return to its cold, dead state. "I'm so sorry..." Someone was holding onto his hands...breathing deeply onto them and drenching them with something wet before sprinkling them with something soft...lips, Romano was able to determine. That person choked out another wail into his hands, this one louder than the others, even has he attempted to pull Romano as close as possible without allowing the Italian's back to leave the soft surface he was lying on. It was warm, wherever he was, but the sadness and desperation in the muffled voice screaming before him sent a cold chill down what bits of skin actually prickled with feeling. Who was crying over him? He wanted to move...to push whoever it was off of him and demand an answer as to why he was crying over _him_; worthless South Italy... "P-p-lease..." the voice stammered, no longer muffled as the sound was directed towards his face. "Come back t-t-o me..."

Blotches and sparks of a dry, metallic scent filtered into his nose, instantly reminding him of some of the rare forges and anvils back at home, although the underplaying stench of cleanliness forced him to think of those awful hospital on every single fucking corner of his land...but it escaped his mind how he was able to smell anything without breathing, besides, he'd seen nations do _stranger_ things. Something warm and calloused touched his cheek, igniting a deep earthy smell inside his nostrils, spreading to his tongue as it washed down his throat. He wanted more of that smell...that oh so wonderful aroma "L-L-Lovino..." the man croaked, choking a few more times on his breath as he rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone in soft, gentle circles. Dark at first, but slowly only a few seconds later, a dull, tainted red filtered in through his eyes, allowing him to know that he was in a brightly lit room without even prying his lids open. "P-p-please...don't lea-leave me..."

"Antonio..." another voice echoed from Romano's left, filled to the brim with grief. "Lovino... It's been two hours since we found him... he's de-"

"NO" the original voice screamed, painfully clinching tighter to Romano's fingers. "He's...He's just taking a nap... yes a _nap._ He's _going_ to wake up... yes...yes just asleep. He'll wake up s-s-soon..." Those lips returned to Romano's hands, drenching them in their chapped touches before caressing his fingers with a soft patch of skin stretched across handsome cheekbones and tickling his flesh with the tips of gentle curls. "Please w-wake up Lovi...wake _up_" Overwhelming frigidness washed over the nerves imbedded in Romano's skin, save for the small patch of flesh under the warm weight pressed against his chest. He still must be in the same clothes snow drenched clothes he died in, but his body still didn't have control over regulating his core temperature...oh god when it did...he would be shaking so fucking much...hell, he still couldn't even frown yet. "Oh L-Lovino...please..." the man begged, wrapping his scalding fingers around the Italian's cheeks, using the tips to caress the hair behind his ear. "P-p-please...please Lovino..." Romano's felt a warm breath wash over his lips, quickly followed by a sharp prickle rushing down from the crown of his hair, much like running water mixed with shrapnel. The breath grew stronger, and Romano's brows twitched. "Please...you...you c-can't be d-d-ead...please...Lovino...I...I love you..."

A pair of lips lightly pressed against Romano's, their chapped flesh gently moving against the ice-kissed skin as the dead man's eyes fluttered open, instantly taking in a very blurred image of the tanned man with dark hair that often haunted his dreams. The man's cheeks were stained with tears and crimson splotches around his closed eyes; his brows were tightly pressed upward, creating waves of wrinkles under the faint curls resting atop his forehead. He hadn't even noticed when Romano opened his olive eyes, but the blond man to his left _did_, instantly gasping and scurrying out of the room with a terrified gleam on his delicate face. The muscles in Romano's jaw twitched, their spasm spreading to the edges of his mouth before tingling the tip of his tongue, allowing him to tightly press it against the back of his teeth. Apparently, the man felt the twitch sparking across his jaw. He slowly pulled back, his emerald irises finally meeting Romano's along with a gape flowing with so many emotions, that Romano would never have the ability to name them all. "Lovi..." the Italian frowned, parting his lips to yell at Antonio for not using his proper name...but another mouth prevented him from doing so, pressing so tightly against him that if he _was_ breathing, he would've choked. That tingle from before shot down his spine like a bullet through a piece of wood, sending its electric ricochets vibrating through his arms and legs.

Romano's fingers twitched and his arm jerked up, allowing his hands to rest upon Antonio's shoulders before applying a light pressure on them. He reluctantly backed away from Romano, but his eyes remained broken despite the toothy grin spreading across his lips. "Lovino...oh god, Lovino..." With his toes twitching in the wet socks covering them, the spark jumped back up his leg and to his lower abdomen...god, he had to piss but right now, he had to deal with the fucking idiot who couldn't decide if he wanted to bawl his eyes out or smother Romano with hugs. Antonio had wrapped his arms around Romano's torso, burying his nose in his neck as he choked out sobs and gasps while fat tears dripped down off of his cheek only to land in the Italian's hair. If blood had been running though his veins, he would've been blushing harder than ever when the brunet clutched him tighter to his body, laying smouldering kisses along his throat. "Lovi...oh my precious Lovino." He muttered, not even bothering to notice when a shell-shocked Berwald and Tino re-entered the room. The taller blond frowned behind the mask of his glasses, striding over to the two with less than three steps and roughly pressed his fingers on the vein directly below the edge of Romano's jaw.

Those cold eyes narrowed, applying a little more pressure before withdrawing completely. "'mposs'ble." He grunted, shaking his head. "No he'rt be't or bre'th, but yer al've." A tingle curled in Romano's stomach, awakening his diaphragm and allowing it to move, pushing what little air remained in his lungs before allowing it to flow back down his throat, expanding the sacs in his chest...though it brought up a metallic scent with every exhale, feeling like a mucus film had lined his esophagus during the time he was void of life and then dried later.

"Lovi's breathing! You're just overreacting!" Antonio exclaimed, wide emerald eyes attempting to stare down the daunting blond...who merely shook his head and sighed.

"He w's de'd fer two h'urs."

"Lovino was never dead!" Oh...oh sweet, ignorant Antonio...willing to overlook important _facts_ to satisfy his own theories...and it made Romano's heart flutter, pushing the blood through previously frozen veins.

Oh god...

_Oh god oh god oh god_

He seized, gasping out and arching towards the ceiling at the pain that racked his body. Everywhere..._Every fucking where_ burned like he was cast into a scalding hot fire inside the sun, and he would've screamed if he could. Instead, his voice bubbled in his throat, gurgling and spewing out a red liquid from his lips with every attempt at screeching. Without a single word, Berwald bounded forward, pushing Antonio away and turning Romano to his side as he coughed out blood and tissue from his gullet, effectively ruining the nice, white sheets under him. And oh god how it hurt... He clawed at his throat, attempting to rip it from his body to make it stop, and he actually succeeded in tearing bits of the flesh above the aching spot, that is, before Antonio leaped forward and pinned his arms to the mattress. What was this pain in his throat...never had he felt something so terrible in his entire lifetime... Tears streamed from Romano's eyes as he stared at Antonio, silently pleading him to help him but...but that idiot was just as frightened as he was, if not more judging by the sheer amount of tears that also gushed from his emerald orbs.

Antonio had no idea what he was getting into, falling for a nation...

Someone who would outlive him for many years over...never aging as he would grow old and helpless...watching him with guilty eyes as he would fall and struggle to regain his footing...never reaching out to help, no matter how much he wanted to.

An unheard wail tore itself from Romano's heart, spewing out as nothing but blood splattered coughs and gasps as he forced his eyes shut in an attempt to rid himself of the sight of Antonio crying over him...but the image was burned into his mind...damn it all...this wasn't supposed to happen...and the light kisses Antonio pressed against his temple only made his heart ache at the bitter truth he would have to eventually tell the man.

* * *

><p>"Progress. What is the progress of the paperwork!"<p>

"Sir, you don't sound well...are you-"

"_Shut up_ and tell me the damn progress!"

"It's completed and waiting to be signed sir."

"Good..._good..._"

"As of now, Mr. Italy will no longer have any voice in the government, before or after he signs the papers."

"..."

"...Sir..._Sir_?...He hung up..."

* * *

><p>Romano just couldn't stop shaking.<p>

His body was desperately trying to raise its temperature to the proper warmth, even when he forced Antonio to leave the room to change into the dry clothes Tino presented him...he couldn't let Antonio see...see those atrocious markings pressed into his flesh from the hell his land went through...he couldn't stand to see how distraught the man became when he saw them..well that and...his scars were _disappearing_...much too quickly even for a nation. It made absolutely no sense...and he could tell himself that he was slowly changing... When he stood, it became easier every day to look the bastard in the eyes; when he spoke, he noticed a slight change in the accent his own voice produced...and...and...

He couldn't remember any Spanish...

None.

And every passing moment, he found another word from a language other than Latin or Italian vanishing...even German, no matter how much Ludwig spoke to him in it.

He didn't understand.

Romano curled himself into a ball, resting his chin on his knees, and his hands on top of his feet. He sighed, closing his eyes as his muscles jerked against one another, attempting to create any warmth to prevent another death from hypothermia, taking much longer than it should have. "Lovi...you need to sit back and rest." Antonio muttered once he re-entered the room with an arm full of thick blankets. Romano glared back at him, wordlessly daring him to make him do it but once Antonio stood beside him, staring down at him with his love drenched smile, he huffed, rolled his eyes, and allowed his back to lean against the shit-ton of pillows at the head of the mattress. Antonio hummed in approval, gently spreading the blankets over Romano's body before leaning over him, and laying a lingering kiss to his cheek. Snorting, he pushed the taller man away, quickly jerking his head to the side in an attempt to hide the blush burning where Antonio's lips had been, but he knew it was in vain. Antonio was already giggling at the sight, even as he took a seat by the bed and intertwined his fingers Romano's, effectively earning a glare from the other man. He was so _very_ lucky Romano's voice had decided to leave him.

"Ah, you're so cute Lovino~" Antonio purred, rubbing his thumb over Romano's knuckles. He became quiet afterwards, gently staring at the flesh of Romano's wrist before flicking his eyes back to their original position, although...they held a different gleam to them than they formerly did, and Romano couldn't place where he saw it before...not that it really mattered, but it didn't stop him from glaring at the brunet. His smile wavered, slipping into a depressed frown. "Lovino...I'm sorry..." he whispered, lifting up Romano's hand to lay a gentle kiss on his palm. "If I never left...if I could properly _control _myself...you never would've gotten hurt..." Another kiss, this time on the tip of his middle finger. "And..and I'm sorry I never...never talked to you..." A tear dripped from his eye, hanging on the edge of one of his lashes before sliding down to the back of Romano's hand, where he placed a final kiss. "I never meant to hurt you...in any way..." More tears joined the first, slithering down his wrist before leaving small stains on the newly changed sheets. "E-everything...that happened to you...i-it's all my fault..."

Romano huffed, lightly brushing away the curls caught in Antonio's eyes before wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks and forcing him to look him in the eyes. _You're an idiot_ he mouthed to the brown haired bastard, trailing his fingers across the bottom of his jaw and then down his neck...noticing that he wasn't wearing that stupid collar; he must've forgotten when he stormed out...he looked so much better when he wasn't wearing that ugly thing...but he took so much pride in being a Lowlander... "Lovi...do your hands hurt?" The sudden question surprised Romano, even more so when he felt those fingers wrap around and lightly press into the sorest parts of his hands. Antonio smiled, allowing his fingers to rub away the tightness that accumulated in Romano's skin...oh how absolutely _wonderful_ that man was with those tantalising hands of his, gliding, stretching and rubbing his skin in such ways he previously thought was impossible.

Blood couldn't decide which way it wanted to rush, half turning his face a faint cherry red while the rest flowed south. Yes...it felt _that_ good, better than usual actually, especially when he released a particular painful knot between his knuckles, and Romano had to bite his bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping him, although his eyes still fluttered up in uttermost pleasure. "Other hand, love." Antonio smiled, failing, or ignoring the blush that crept along his own cheeks. He did the same treatment to the opposite hand, gently pressing the tip of his thumb into Romano's palm, drawing soft circles in the skin before moving up, and creating more circles as he moved up each finger, one by one. Oh...oh... he couldn't hold it in any more. Tiny gasps escaped his lips under every movement, sheer pleasure accenting each...until the fingers abruptly stopped, and slithered up his arms. "Do...you like the way my hands make you _feel_?..."Antonio whispered, suddenly much closer than he should've been, and his eyes were half lidded. Romano sighed, allowing his eyes to copy Antonio's as the space between them closed, and their lips were touching...softly at first, but then harder when Antonio wrapped his arms around Romano's waist, gently pulling him closer with every shift of his lips, but when slender arms wrapped around his own shoulders...he faintly moaned, coaxing Romano to deepen their kiss...and he allowed him to, despite all of the alarms ringing in the back of his head. This...this was wrong. So, _so wrong_ but the way Antonio's tongue expertly moved against his own...oh god, it was breathtaking...

Gasps escaped his mouth when they parted, but Antonio's hunger wasn't sated just yet; he latched his parted lips on Romano's neck, chuckling when the smaller man twisted his head up to present more flesh to him. "I _want_ you..." he growled, leaving sharp nips along the supple skin, pausing to swirl his tongue around Romano's clavicle before lightly biting down on the bone and attempting to pull him closer.

"Mr. Lovino, I want you to try..._oh..._ Am I interrupting something?"

_Shit_!

Romano harshly pushed Antonio away, not caring when the larger man slammed into the floor with a groan; he was too busy trying to hide his scarlet face in his hands. Tino giggled, seemingly unfazed by what he witnessed as he continued over to the side of the bed, carrying a small tray with an assortment of tiny metal links and tools. "Antonio," he continued, softly gazing down at the man picking himself off of the floor, "Berwald would like to talk to you in private." Tino placed the tray beside Romano before sitting in the same chair Antonio did moments before, while the other man grudgingly left the room with a half disappointed, half irritated scowl on his face. "I'm sorry for that. I really am." Tino laughed, shifting the metal around on the tray. "But I need to see if you have any problems with your hand strength and coordination." Romano lowered his fingers, staring down at the metal by his hips. "It's simple really." The blond man continued, lifting the tray up and aiding the brunet in moving it into his lap. "Just make a chain with these items. It doesn't have to be complicated."

Romano picked up the pair of old looking pliers, taking one in each hand before shifting his gaze to the tiny metal rings the chain would be made of..._Simple_. Without hesitation, Romano linked together several rings together, overlapping them and pulling others through each other as he made his chain. Tino watched with impressed eyes, apparently never seeing someone fashion a foxtail chain with such grace and expertness despite the constant quivering and jerking of his fingers. "Wow. You're really good at this." A smile graced Romano's lips; of course he was, while his brother was excellent with paints and two dimensional arts, his southern half couldn't be beaten when it came to making or designing any sort of jewellery. He even repaired some of Spain's chainmail when it became damaged...not that he allowed the bastard to know of his skill of course. "Say, would you want to make this into a necklace?" Tino asked once the chain was an inch long, inspecting it in his hand. Romano considered it, his eyes lingering on the beautiful bracelet around Tino's wrist before he nodded _yes._

The blond caught his eyes observing his wrist. "Do you also want to know about this bracelet?" Another yes, followed by Romano continuing on his chain. "Well..." Tino started, leaning back in his chair. "_This _is my bond to my mate...my _husband_, Berwald. He has a matching bracelet, like how Highlanders use rings to show they're married." Romano nodded in understanding, though his eyes lingered on Tino longer than he realized. "Do you know about marriage between Lowlanders?" he slowly asked, smiling when Romano silently asked him to continue. "Well...it all starts with the _courting_. This is where the male tries to gain and keep the interest of the one they want to be their mate; He will often shower her, or _him_, with gifts, affection and any other type of romantic thing you can think of. After that, he will ask him or her to marry him and to never break apart."

Tino paused, checking if Romano was following him so far. "Now, the chosen mate will _not_ accept their affection unless they truly want to marry the courter, it's just by nature...and there are various reasons they will not be accepted, mostly if their genes won't produce a child who will survive, remain strong and be able to lead a group...That's why many Lowlanders don't marry for love... They may think they have a chosen mate their entire lives, but once they see someone who has a better chance of creating stronger children, they will switch their affections to them...It's depressing, really..." He sighed, sighing at the bracelet dangling off of his wrist. "I was one of the lucky ones..." Tino then became silent, eagerly watching Romano craft the chain, noting how quickly the man created the sturdy links into long strip.

Soon enough, the chain was long enough to be considered a necklace, and Romano attached a clip to each end, so that it would properly close. He stared at it, knowing it was missing something...and then it clicked... He reached around his own neck, sliding off the rosary he kept so close to his heart his entire life and allowed the cross to line up against the chain. He...probably would never be able to return home...so there was no point in holding onto a physical manifestation to his beliefs... just holding them in his heart would suffice until he could fashion a replacement. _Perfect_, he nearly purred, making a silent prayer and apology before ripping the cross from its previous hold, then took the untainted metal and secured it to the chain necklace... Finished. Romano lifted it up, basking in the sheer perfection in his hands. "It's beautiful.." Tino complemented, smiling back at Romano, a knowing look gleaming in his eyes. Yes...yes it was... but damn if he didn't use a shit-ton of metal to make it. "Don't worry about the price of it. Once you get better, we'll find a way for you to pay it back." There was no malice in his voice, leaving Romano in a somewhat calmer state despite how much he probably owed the man...after all, metal was very, _very_ expensive. Tino took the tray off of Romano's lap, gently leaning down to whisper in his ear before he left the room, "I think he'll love it."

His comment left Romano confused...Who would love it? He didn't make it for anyone in particular...did he? Staring back down at the collection of metal in his hand, he thought it over, frowning when he couldn't come up with an answer while failing to notice when Antonio returned to his side and sat down on the side of the bed next to him. "_Smile Lovino~_" He hummed in a singing voice, wrapping his arms around the blushing male before drawing him closer to his body. "You're still shivering...are you cold?" ...Oh... he was, wasn't he? Romano glared at the idiot, shifting his shoulders to try to get him off of his body, but Antonio didn't budge, choosing instead to leave small kisses on his cheeks. "I'll keep you warm, my love." He sighed, nuzzling his nose into the side of Romano's head...but it didn't stop the Italian from frowning.

He lightly touched Antonio's arms, pushing the one laying across his stomach away from him so he could have access to his hand, and thankfully, the larger male complied, looking down in curiosity with those endless emerald eyes of his. Romano gently placed the chain in the hand so much larger than his own, deeply blushing and turning his head away when Antonio brought it up to his face. "Oh..." he simply sighed, regret and sadness clutching at the strings of Romano heart. Antonio shifted a few times, but the smaller man refused to look at him...he couldn't...no..."It's beautiful, Lovino." Antonio hummed, sprinkling more kisses upon Romano's head before using his finger to lift up the cross dangling around his neck; perfectly shinning a pale light against his dark skin. "I love it~" He whispered in Romano's ear, sending shivers down his spine before he fell back, taking the small man with him.

_The hell..._ he glared at the man still gazing at the necklace around his neck with a broad, joyous smile across his face. "Thank you, so much." He pecked Romano on the lips, still holding him close even as he reached over him to pull the blanket across their bodies, and snuggled as close as he could to the Italian. "I'll wear it every day, out where everyone can see how beautiful it is." Antonio smiled, burying his nose into Romano's dark hair before gently humming that same song he constantly used to coax him into the world of dreams. Such a gorgeous voice...so soft...just like the man it radiated from. The tune curled in his ears, softly caressing his skin with every dip and rise of Antonio voice and creating tingles against it every time his breath flicked off his tongue. Romano smiled, allowing his hands to lazy drape across Antonio's waist as he was washed away into his dreams, barely making out the faint whisper that graced his ears before losing himself into the night.

"Sweet dreams, my precious Lovino~"

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are loved as always~<strong>


	10. Big Bluff

**I really hope I didn't reveal too much in this chapter, but I hope that you guys still enjoy it~  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Japan couldn't help but to stifle a giggle at the sight of Romano blushing so profusely whenever the man looking so much like Spain messaged his hands, showing so much tenderness and love to the nation that it would've thrown the real Spain into a jealous rage…not to mention the nervous stain of red that lingered on the alternate's cheeks made the scene just so heart-warming and adorable. He'd always secretly known Romano could show affection to those he cared for, that and how easy it was for him to <em>transfer<em> his emotions and feelings of one to another person…like his hatred of Holy Rome to Germany, just from their likeness…and Japan had no doubt in his mind that this was what happened to form this relationship between him and the Spain look-alike. He frowned. How long would that kind of relationship be able to last…and it couldn't be very healthy for the two, but…seeing how _happy_ Romano was in the care of the curly haired man, Japan wondered if he should inform Italy of the new obstacle that has arisen…Did Italy even know about the alternate Spain? He never mentioned anything to Japan about it….nor England, but those two wouldn't keep anything hidden from him…But…Japan decided that it would probably be better for the two to find out on their own since right now they had other problems to deal with.

Like the mafia uprisings in the south; With Romano gone, the mob had went berserk, causing an endless string of riots that surely drove the pain sensors in South Italy's hands insane, not to mention Feliciano was also acting very strangely since the day Romano had disappeared…Everyone noticed it, even the man it had become a taboo to mention noticed during slight pause in his rage, actually approaching the younger nation during one of the meetings and asking if he was okay. Italy…he was more prone to violent outbursts whenever his brother was mentioned in an ill manner, yet he refrained from effectively answering any questions pertaining to his government…Japan often thought about it…perhaps it was because the normally whimsical nation didn't really know much about how his government was operated, since Romano always took care of that for him, while he only had to work with the foreign relationships and policies…but it never explained how now..Italy seemed to always be thinking about _something_, yet everyone, including Japan merely brushed it off as what he would prepare his brother once he came back, since that would be typical behavior of the half nation. Then again, he may have been thinking of a solution to the whole Spanish States problem…with the leading humans threatening for war if they even spot Romano near… well…_him_, claiming that _he _corrupted their country and that if Romano never existed, Old Spain would still be whole and not shattered with one region reigning over the others; _Nueva España_, as he called himself...although, some referred to him simply as _Spain_, due to...certain circumstances.

"Such drama over such a small thing…" Japan sighed, switching his attention from the blushing Romano to his computer, checking the time in the corner of the screen. It had been three hours since England last messaged him, and only one since Romano's body reanimated itself…another sigh left the man's as he flipped through websites, only half watching the Spain clone gently kneed away the knots in the Italian's hands, yet, like the trained otaku he was, the moment that doppelganger neared Romano, his eyes were fixed upon the scene. They…were kissing…and it's wasn't just a small peck on the mouth either…no, this was much more, like how Germany and Italy would kiss when they thought no one was looking… oh how irate Romano would've been if he knew he was being watched at that very moment…and how furious the old Spain would've been if he found out the southern Italian was kissing another man, looking like him or not. And _Nueva España…_Japan didn't want to think of what would happen if _he_ walked in on this…

"_Fratello!_" A voice echoed from the floor above, quickly followed by the heavy shuffling of feet and curses from a deeper, accented voice…something about watching the vases and don't open the door too quickly. Another bang, and thuds descended down the stairs, quickly accented by frantic breaths and incomprehensible, jumbled Italian and English, all of which were sputtering from Italy's slack jaw. "_Fratello…Fratello…"_ he chanted, speeding over to the image of his brother…who no longer was with the Spain double, and was with Finland's clone instead…making some sort of chain. "_Fratello…you're alive…_" Italy wheezed, dropping down to his hands and knees once he reached the illuminated floating picture, his chocolate eyes overflowing with tears. "_Fratello…oh, fratello._"

England finally made his way down the rickety stairs, grumbling and fixing the cuffs on his shirt as he did so. "Bloody hell, Italy…At least let me open the door next time before you knock it off the hinges." He sighed, running a hand through messy straw blond hair. Italy murmured an apology, but his eyes remained fixated on his brother while his hands wrapped themselves around the hem of his jacket, his teeth harshly gnawing at his lower lip…was he…_nervous_? Well, Japan didn't blame him… "Now Japan, what's this nonsense about physical appearances changing you messaged me with earlier?"

"Look." He replied, using the tip of his finger to point towards the dark haired Italian fashioning a chain. "Romano's hair is darker, he's taller, and he-"

"NO!" Italy screamed, dragging himself to his feet as he glared at Japan with dark eyes. This startled the older man; never had he had such…wildness and fury seething behind the chocolate walls he constantly constructed. "Romano hasn't changed. _He's_ still exactly the _same_!" He snarled at the two men, daring them to go against his words. "_Fratello_ hasn't changed…he's the same…" England sighed, covering his face with his hand…so he caught it too, Japan assumed; the guilt that raged behind those lashes despite the fury boiling away the tears.

"Italy…do you know anything about Romano's changes?" Japan gently questioned, prepared for a violent outburst that was very likely to come to be.

"_He's not changing, you bastard._"

Such fierce words…coming from such a usually sweet man, thoroughly surprising the two other nations as he stormed out of the room. "Italy…" England muttered under his breath, not sure if he wanted to chase after the man to make sure he didn't tear up his home.

"He's…changed since Romano left…"

"…Should I try to get him now? Romano..I mean..."

Japan turned to England, confused by the man's question. "Why do you say that?"

"Because…the way it's destroying Italy… and all of the riots in the south. Only that brat could stop it. I could try to get him now…though.." he paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Though if I go now…I would risk killing the Arthur from that universe."

"I don't understand…"

England sighed, shifting his eyes towards Japan. "I need a good connection to the universe, or I will instantly kill my alternate self the moment I step foot in that world and I may not even make it back to this world alive…or I could kill Romano trying to bring him back."

"What if you wait until you _do_ get a good tie?"

"It won't kill him at first…and I'll be able to get back unscathed, but….but if I'm there for over a few weeks…the alternate _will_ die a slow and painful death…"

Shock overcame Japan's features, snapping his head back to the image of Romano. "So the alternate Romano…"

"He has only a week or two left to live…at best."

* * *

><p>"Looooooooviiiiiiiiiiiiiiii~ You need to get better faster~" a whine purred at Romano's waist, earning a glare at the man lazily clutching to a plush pillow while sprawled out over the bed…effectively taking up more space than the Italian was, who was attempting to finish a book Arthur brought him a few days earlier. Romano rolled his eyes, snapping his book shut against his knees as his back was propped up on the headboard. He snarled at Antonio.<p>

"And why the hell is that?" he rasped, pain still clinching at his throat from the oh just fan-fucking-tastic experience of having parts of his neck ripped out before miraculously growing back as if nothing happened at all. Antonio squirmed under his glare, raising his luscious emerald eyes to look up at the growling man.

"Because~" he whined once more, pouting and burying his chin into the pillow. "I want you to go to the festival this weekend."

"Festival?" Romano snorted, unimpressed by the idea of some silly little kid's event. "Why the fuck would I want to go to something stupid like that?"

Antonio sighed, wrapping his arms around Romano's waist and nuzzling his face into the junction between his waist and lower ribs. "It's not stupid. It's a tradition to go to the Festival of the New Dawn to celebrate the new year. That and this year is special...so I want you to go..." So pitiful that voice of his sounded to Romano, tearing at something in his stomach in a pleasant way and causing a slight tingle in his scalp.

"What makes it so damn special?"

Antonio chuckled, washing his hot breath over the thin cloth of Romano's shirt before sliding his cheek up the Italian's arm to rest it on his shoulder, and placed a small kiss on the lobe of his ear. "I can't properly explain, my love...but~" he whispered into the smaller male's ear, earning a shudder as he drew him closer, "I can assure you, that you will _love_ it. So you need to get better~"

A faint rosy red slithered onto Romano's cheeks, and he turned his head to attempt to hide how Antonio's affectionate behaviour flushed him so. "Fine...whatever, but I can't just magically heal you know." Another smooch to the neck, and Romano attempted to slide himself from Antonio's grasp, only to fail, huff and slouch even deeper into the bed. Sighing with a sweet smile across his lips, Antonio shifted his entire body, gently prying apart Romano's legs and positioning himself between them. "What the hell do you think you're doing, jerkwad?" He growled, using his book to softly smack the curly haired idiot on the side of his head, though he still lacked the energy to do anything too harsh.

"I'm going to love you until you get better, my precious Lovi." Antonio hummed, splaying his fingers across the curve of Romano's hips and using them as an anchor to pull the blushing man into his lap. He didn't protest...since he was void of any energy, after all. Instead, he sneered at Antonio; a silent warning for him to back off, but, as usual, the stupid bastard giggled at Romano's _fierceness_, wrapping his arms around the much smaller frame and pulling him closer, so his lips could touch flushed cheeks with ease and the cross around his neck could brush against the sun kissed skin exposed by Romano's shirt collar.

"Idiota." He groaned, tenderly pushing Antonio's face away from his own. "You can't use fucking hugs and kisses to cure muscle weakness, you dumb shit." Yet again, _another_ whine escaped the bastard's throat and those perverted little hands of his began to travel down Romano's back, stopping once they reached the base of his spine to gently prod at each arc of the column of bones.

"But Lovi~" he purred, wiggling his hips under Romano as he did so, only to force the Italian into a violent sputter, initiating a harsh shade of red over his cheeks, and an attempt to shove him away... While the bastard did tumble back, his hold on Romano failed to falter and as such, the smaller male fell on top of him, straddling him once he jerked back up while spewing more curses and insults. Antonio...he merely sighed and gazed back up at Romano, unknowingly ensnaring the man's mind with those sparkling emeralds set into his sockets, tossing unbreakable chains around his fluttering heart just by blinking and exhaling through the sugary grin that parted his lips. "You're so beautiful, my love."

Romano rolled his eyes. "I'm not beautiful, you asshole." He growled, shifting his legs so they weren't uncomfortably cramped under his weight. That simple movement, much to Romano's amusement, earned a violent pink to wash over Antonio's tanned face, and his hands skittered down to his thighs, attempting to gently ask the tiny frame to _just stop moving_. Romano purred out a chuckle, lowering his face a few inches as he walked two fingers up that chest rippling with muscles under a thin cloth. "Do you not like that, bastard?" He grinned; pleased with the way Antonio's mouth opened yet could only produce a croak instead of proper words. Spain never would've gotten this way...so flustered under the touch of Romano's slender digits, and the mere thought of having such a larger and stronger man writhe at a slight touch gave him more pleasure than anything else. Call it or his Italian blood or something _primal_ awakening inside of him...either way, just thinking of it excited him more than that potato bastard dying a horrible death.

"Oh my~" a voice cooed at the door to their right. "Don't tell me Antoine is allowing someone to entice him~" God dammit... _Francis_ and the potato brothers stood at the door...well, more leaned against it on the bearded bastard's part, but they were still there...grinning like the fucking sex obsessed bastards that they were, while Gilbert covered little Ludwig's innocent eyes.

Romano growled, using what strength he had to push himself back to a sitting position on the bed, and between Antonio's knees. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Ah~ Don't tell me you didn't miss my awesomeness and the epicness of my lil' bro!" Gilbert grinned, allowing his hand to cradle Ludwig's much tinier one, that is, the one that wasn't holding a bag filled with what looked like towels. Romano sneered at the albino, folding his arms over each other as Antonio propped himself up with his elbows and lazily rolled his head back so he could stare at his stupid _friends_.

"What are you guys doing here so early?" he questioned, making Romano think the same thing. It had to be at least nine in the fucking morning, and those bastards never woke up earlier than noon; he had the chance to notice that when they crashed in Arthur's living room one night...and that idiot better have known that Romano did indeed notice when he shifted his knees so they were touching his thighs, but he refrained from chewing the idiot out...he was far too busy glaring daggers at that sniggering albino bastard. That dumb fuck...just standing there with that stupid grin plastered on his egotistical mug...god, it made Romano want to punch the fucker...

Well, at least he wasn't as annoying as Prussia, after all, he didn't constantly whine and bitch about how he wasn't considered a nation or some dumb shit like that. "Because." That jarring voice scratched out, taking a brief moment to softly glance down at his brother. "Today is the first day of the new year, and we must keep our awesome tradition!"

Antonio's brows knotted up, and his fingers clutched at the sheets below him. "But what about Lovi? We can't just abandon him..." he whined, allowing his hands to trail over his own thighs before resting atop Romano's toes, making them twitch under his finger's soft grazes and the gentle way this thumbs swirled on the pads of his largest toes. Francis purred one of his lecherous laughs, adjusting one of the bags on his shoulder, which clinked with the slightest movement.

"_Non, non, mon ami._ Little Lovino is coming _with_ us. Besides, the baths will soothe his muscles and allow him to get healthier...maybe even before the festival~" Oh, how Antonio perked up at that, like some child with the promise of candy. Francis' devilish grin only grew larger. "_And_, I've managed to get us private rooms this year, since Arthur fell ill yesterday, meaning we won't have to go to the public sections." What a shame...from what Antonio told Romano, apparently the man collapsed shortly after complaining about strong chest pains...so Berwald traveled over to his home to check up on him that morning, taking Tino with him since they trusted Antonio with the Italian. Arthur was _okay_ for the moment, but something about it made Romano's skin crawl and he couldn't name what it was at all.

The grin that stretched itself across Antonio's lips sent a fluttering jolt through Romano's heart; so happy the man looked, even more so when he actually fixed those emeralds upon his face and leaned forward, cupping his hands around the slender neck that burned every single time his fingers brushed over his hairline. Romano frowned, trying to tear his eyes away from Antonio's. "What the fuck are you so happy about, bastard?"

He chuckled, nearing Romano. "We have _private_ rooms this year." A purr escaped his throat, accented by the chase kiss he placed upon Romano's cheek. "That means you can relax all you want to in the baths, and not be bothered by anyone~"

"I'll be bothered if you're there, fucker."

"Ah~ my precious Lovi~" Another frown distorted Romano's lips...well, a stronger scowl than usual to be exact, but either way, it caught the attention of that bastard constantly radiating fucking _sunshine_ and _rainbows_, and a pout washed over that beautiful face he owned. Why...why was it one minute that bumbling bastard would be so flustered and embarrassed from a simple touch from Romano, yet...the moment he stopped and focused his attention on something else, Antonio would be all over him once again with more energy and thought than he used on his daily work routines... And it was getting worse day after day, both the intense amount of affection that poured from his body, and how flustered he became when Romano attempted to return some, in order to show that...well, it wasn't as hated as he often showed it to be. Did he not like Romano touching him? ...Was he that _repulsive _when trying to show how he really felt? "Lovi...Lovino, what's wrong?" Antonio questioned once Romano's eyes fell and darkened, brushing the chocolate strands of hair out of his face so he could get a better look at the soft skin below them. He sighed, allowing his lids to slide shut over the murky amber embedded into his skull. Damn that bastard... he...he just wouldn't understand. "Lovino, please." He cooed out, pressing a light kiss to Romano's forehead and drawing his body closer to his own. "Tell me what's wrong, so I can make you feel better."

At least those idiot friends of his understood to get out and leave the two to themselves once Antonio became overly concerned of the Italian in his arms, smothering him with hugs and placing kisses all over his face...that is, everywhere except for his lips. "I'm fine." He murmured, turning his head to attempt to get the bastard to stop, but it couldn't ever just be that easy. Antonio frowned, using his hand to force Romano to look him in the eyes, although, just to be the stubborn bastard he was, Romano kept his eyes averted from the face so close to his own.

"No you're not. Something is bothering you."

No...no._ Nothing_ was bothering him. He was perfectly fine with everything. "_I'm fine._" A growl escaped this time, yet Antonio still refused to accept that as an answer.

"Lovino. _Look at me_." Such power and command that accented his words...oh how it sent chills down Romano's spine, settling into a warm pool at the base of his spine, and that feeling alone forced his eyes to flutter up to the intense emeralds gently staring down at him. His heart clinched as something soft yet firm was pressed against his lips, gently shifting every second or so before pulling away, leaving Romano wanting more, no matter how much his heart was calling him a traitor to the one man he had loved his entire life. He...he wanted this; the affection, the love, the adulation...everything...he wanted to be _happy_ for once in his fucking life, and to be admired without the nagging feeling that he was only talked to because someone wanted to be with his brother instead...but...he just _couldn't_ with Antonio...with him bearing such an uncanny appearance to _Spain_...and it hurt...every moment he was around the bastard. He felt like a traitor...a horrible person for trying to forget his original love, only to replace him with someone who literally was an exact copy. He just couldn't do it...

"Just go with your stupid little friends." Romano mumbled, pushing the larger male away from him before turning to the side and laying down, curling himself into a ball. "I don't want to go..." Lies... he would've loved to relax in a bathhouse with Antonio, if only to be able to walk around the town with him, drinking all of the sights and sounds that it offered, silently enjoying the company that the other man offered and maybe to even go to that festival he mentioned earlier...but...would it be worth all of the pain?

"But Lovi..." Antonio whined, shifting so he was leaning over Romano's form, one arm pressed into the bedding on both sides of his body. "I _want_ you to come with me..." He used the palm of his hand to gently turn Romano so he was on his back, facing up at the sun kissed man with a faltering glare set into his features. Another kiss was placed upon Romano's lips, this one longer than the other, but sweeter...filled with the love that the Italian constantly longed for and desired. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

Romano sighed, knowing very well that the idiot would never give up, and would very well do _anything_ to gain his approval...hell, he probably would even have _sex_ with the Italian, right there and then if that was the only way to convince him to tag along with his friends. "Anything?" he questioned, feeling his heart flutter once Antonio's expression melted into the kindest and sweetest smile he had seen in his entire life.

"Yes, my love." He hummed, gently rubbing his nose against Romano's. "I will do _anything_." The Italian blushed at the small gesture, turning his head to the side, but Antonio only nudged it back so he was facing him again. He knew very well what he wanted...he had wanted it since the moment he was forced to reside in this stupid bed, not allowed to leave the small house, or even the room without someone with him.

He exhaled, chewing over his words so he wouldn't seem desperate for the one thing he wanted at the moment. Antonio just kept smiling, silently urging him on with those emerald eyes that never seemed to dull, and only brightened every time they stared at the Italian below him. "Take me _home_." Romano finally whispered, not at all pleased with how soft and broken his voice became as those words left his throat, yet, the way that Antonio nonchalantly chuckled and bushed his thumb to caress the skin along his cheekbone calmed him...making him not care how pitiful he sounded.

"It will be done..." Antonio hummed, placing a kiss on his nose. "Is there anything else you want, my love?"

Romano gazed at him, thinking it over. "Yes..." he hesitantly added, bringing up his arms to rest around Antonio's shoulders; the larger man sighed, slightly angling his face to the side, allowing his breath to wash upon Romano's lips.

"May I have the honour of figuring it out?"

"Do what you want, bastard."

Those alluring lips covered his own again, pressing with such passion and gentleness that Romano began to regret allowing the man to kiss him; it wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, no... oh god no. He absolutely _loved_ the way Antonio sighed into every movement of his lips, sliding his hands behind Romano's back to draw him closer, gently dragging his blunt nails down his shoulder blades and spine, just to encourage the Italian to arch up into his body. Shifting his body, Antonio carefully placed his left knee between Romano's and lowered himself so he was flat against him, allowing his skin to drink in the comfortable warmth that he radiated. They parted for only a moment, staring into each other's eyes and prying past the walls they both constructed over the past month, finally seeing what they both truly desired. But Romano...he wasn't sure if he wanted what his mind and body yearned for his heart...that despicable organ that constantly fluttered when he was around the man pressed so tightly to him, it still ached for another man...yet, he failed to resist when the space between them closed once more, and a tongue gently brushed against his bottom lip. A small, but still very embarrassing moan escaped him when he allowed Antonio to deepen the kiss, tasting the small amount of apples they shared earlier that morning, mixed with a minute amount of black tea. Thankfully, it wasn't too strong and didn't repulse Romano too much. Their tongues lapped over each other, brushing against teeth and lips alike in an attempt to overpower each other, furthermore luring Antonio to become more aggressive in order to remain dominant.

He nipped at Romano's bottom lip, before gently sucking on it and laying a trail of kisses across his cheek as he traveled down to the flesh on his neck. Growling, Antonio dragged his tongue down the side of Romano's throat, drawing a moan from the smaller man as their hips brushed against each other. The feeling of that muscle...it seemed to be stronger than it had only five days before, and everything else he touched...he could _feel_ it better, including the clumps of chocolate hair he had clutched in his hands as he gasped every time he felt a sharp nip on his neck...he could easily _count_ every single strand of hair that brushed against his fingers, which actually unnerved him; never before was his sense of touch so strong... but that really didn't matter now, with that bastard hesitantly grinding his hips into the man's below him...and he knew it wouldn't be much longer until Antonio grew courageous enough for those delicious hips to rolling into his as if they _belonged_ in that state; aching and roughly pressed together in a dance mankind had practiced since the beginning of their time on the planet.

A strange pain shot through Romano's heart once he thought of...his immortality. This wasn't...it couldn't ever happen with him being a _country_ and not a human... This _love_...it was impossible...but he just couldn't bring himself to make Antonio stop over...over _that_. Carefully, he allowed his eyes to open, staring at the curly haired man kissing and lapping at his neck like it was the most delicious thing on the planet. Suddenly...Romano's was reminded of the dull ache in his hands and his calves, enforcing his regret of his actions...was he only leading Antonio on? Allowing him to think that Romano actually cared for him? Or was it...was it really...no...It couldn't be... he would never... Another gasped rushed past his lips when Antonio found a particularly sensitive spot below his ear, nipping at it before kissing it with so much care that it wiped away the pain that was there moments before. "Nghmm...An-Antoni-" Romano halted mid-moan, his eyes wide at the sight to his left.

A blond man stared down at him...acid green eyes and eyebrows what could act as a hiding place for many small creatures nestled below that mess of straw coloured hair, and...and an aura to him that Romano hadn't felt for many, many days... But it was impossible...how did _he_ get here? England frowned, and shook his head, appearing to be...guilty about something that plagued his mind. Their eyes made contact for only moments before Romano blinked...

...and he was gone.

Antonio stopped his ministrations, turning his attention to the frozen Italian in his arms. "Lovi? What's wrong? You became tense all of a sudden..."

"It-it's nothing... just help me get ready for that stupid bath."

* * *

><p>Italy stared at his own reflection in the grungy mirror he happened upon in an old public restroom. It was true, what they said about his appearance; he did seem healthier than he had when his brother left, skin glowing with the health and pride of Italy, and his hair lacked the gloominess it had only weeks before. And what England and Japan mentioned about Lovino... Veneziano noticed it was well...but he wasn't willing to accept it... They were both changing, in more ways than just one. Day after day, he noticed that he would become angrier over smaller and smaller things, much like Lovino always would...and that he didn't care for people as much as he previously did. He found complicated government ideas easier to follow, and things failed to frighten him as easily...<p>

He sighed, allowing his eyes to lower to his now bare arms... Scars had formed along them over the past week or so, alarming his beloved Ludwig to the point where he had to tell him what was going on with his brother... at least that would be some more help when it came to be the time to fetch Lovino, and Italy knew that his brother wouldn't be able to wrestle his way out of the German's arms. It wouldn't be long now...until he represented all of Italy, from the look of his health and body...although it really wasn't what he wanted...no... Veneziano was never really _Italy_...never...Everyone called him that horrid name because they didn't want to face the absolute truth... His heart lay in Venice... but _Rome_ was the heart of the _true_ Italy... Lovino... _he_ deserved to be called his true name, as much pain that he had suffered to keep Veneziano perfect in every way. He really was much more caring than everyone thought he was... But they refused to try to get past that wall Romano set between himself and the rest of the world...completely built out of pain and fear; the fear that he would be abandoned for someone better...someone like Veneziano...and it pained his precious little brother to know of the resentment he held for him despite all of the caring things he did to protect and love his brother.

"I'm sorry.._.fratello_..." he croaked out, sinking to his knees in that filthy bathroom. He didn't want to do what he had to...but it was all to make his brother happier. After all, every single time he saw Lovino in that alternate world, he was _alone_... but he still didn't want to bring his brother back...he couldn't. Not with the way that the Spanish States were acting towards his brother...and with _Nueva España _leading many of the mafia's riots down in the south... it wouldn't be worth it to bring his brother back. Not with the pain that he would have to endure for the rest of his life...no...but...but they couldn't just tell _him_ that they decided to not bring Lovino back either. That in itself would cause many, many innocent mortals to be slaughtered and perhaps even a war, leading the economy into a bigger hole than it was already in...

He had to find a way to make his brother stay in that world...even if it meant severing his ties to his own homeland, and losing him to that alternate world _forever_.

Even if he had to trick England into taking him to that universe...

Then so be it. If _that _ was what it took.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not sure if I want to write about the baths or just skip into the Festival... I'll have to think about it, since if I do the bath chapter, it will most likely just be fluff...and strangely, I don't want too much fluff in this story :  
><strong>

**Spanish States-**

** While they are called states, they are separate countries, with the strongest one that answers for all of them at the moment (until they can make successful governments and economies) Just think of the Baltic states. Grouped together, but they are still independent countries. They were created from the death of the original Spain, or Old Spain as people now call it, and the core of Old Spain (Madrid and the areas around the city) was made into New Spain, in honor of their original homeland. There are 7 countries in all that were made from Old Spain's reconstruction.**

**Reviews are loved as always :)  
><strong>


	11. Blank

**Loooong chapter...but it may be the last of its kind for a while... and I don't necessarily mean the length either. This just adds to the drama that I love so much.**

**I hope you guys like it~**

* * *

><p>Ugh. What a long fucking week it turned out to be after Antonio dragged Romano to those baths…not that they were bad. Not at all; they reminded the Italian of back when his grandfather was around and of the houses he constructed in Italy, with all of the different rooms that one would visit during their stay and all of the new people that they would meet. He quite enjoyed his time there, especially in the warm watered baths, where he could stretch out his legs and truly relax as the liquid wrapped around his body, tingling every pore that it could reach while soothing the pain from his muscles, even his hands. He also had the chance to repay Antonio for all of the glorious hand and shoulder massages he had given him over the month…although it had been a bit awkward on Romano's part at first, since they both were completely <em>naked <em>along with those idiot friends of his…apparently, the citizens of this world had no problem with being in the nude around other people and it wasn't seen as taboo. Oh well, it was still amusing to see how red Antonio's face became as Romano worked the knots out of his shoulders and back while massaging oils deep into his skin. He still had to flick the bastard in the back of the head whenever he attempted to twist his arm back and rub his hand over Romano's legs, or when he caught the bastard staring at him from across the room…which was the entire time, even when the assistant walked in and asked if they wanted to move to the next room only for the pretty lady to be shooed out of the room by that albino bastard. Later on, Romano made sure to flirt with the girl, both as an apology and to see the deliciously jealous expression that crossed Antonio's face (he wouldn't let the Italian out of his sight from that point on.) And afterwards, they got the permission for Romano to return to Arthur's home, allowing him to sleep in a bed with another warm body for the first time in several days.

The rest of the week returned to what it was before Romano had collapsed out in the snowstorm; he would aid Antonio with the yard work, though he couldn't do as much as before due to the requirement of a cane to even get around the house, then he would spend time with Arthur…meaning they would both sit in front of the fireplace and read in silence before Antonio would stumble into the room, take his spot by Romano, and promptly rest his head upon his shoulder, falling into a quick nap in the warmth of the fire and the Italian…still smelling of sweat or wherever he was while he was working…at least he kept those perverted hands of his in check, as if he didn't want Arthur to think there was anything between them…

Which there wasn't, dammit...ugh...Even if he often caught that curly haired bastard constantly staring at his wrist before scowling in concentration...as if he was thinking hard and planning something _stupid_...

Arthur, on the other hand, didn't feel very well all week, but he _was_ fairing much better than he was when Romano returned on Sunday. No longer did he complain of chest pains, or shortness of breath but he still retained a sort of _unpleasant_ feeling, as he called it, and would shuffle around the large house as if he was in a daze before remembering what he was doing…It worried Romano…both of the future of his health and the fact that he couldn't shrug off the feeling that something bad was going to happen..._soon. _England kept creeping back into Romano's mind whenever he had nothing to stimulate it, and he constantly worried that the tea sucking bastard would randomly pop up whenever Antonio wasn't distracted, and attempt to take him away from his ho-...current _dwellings_…that wouldn't set well with the much, _much_ larger idiot, and he would probably attack England in a rage…and get his ass killed; the bush-browed nation was _not_ one to hold back against people who got in his way, _especially_ if they looked like _Spain…_even if they were human. But…thankfully, the only thing remotely resembling England was Arthur, and he was always busy sleeping or taking it easy. Unfortunately, because of his health, Arthur insisted that he couldn't make it to the festival being held six days after Romano returned…speaking of which… That was _tonight_…

…and Antonio was scurrying to and fro trying to prepare for it, even though Francis informed him that men only had to show up wearing a mask and the nicest suit they owned… and both he and Romano already made their masks (looking very much like the ones from the Carnival of Venice) earlier in the week when they were both lounging around in the sun room. As such, Romano sat at the dinner table with his head resting on his palm, his eyes following the frantic idiot as he stumbled around the room, placing various objects on the table before disappearing, then running back with more shit in his arms. Most of it was wrapped in cloth, and whenever Romano attempted to touch it, that bastard would gently slap his hands away, pout, then go back to his previous business…Which left Romano utterly _bored_ out of his mind. "Bastard, what the hell are you doing?" He growled as Antonio placed a pair of dress shoes on the table, before settling in the chair across from the Italian and carefully polishing the footwear.

That idiot didn't even look up at Romano as he spoke. "I'm getting ready, my love~"

Romano scoffed at his response, running the tip of his finger across one of the golden curves of Antonio's mask, a flutter growing in his heart in anticipation of actually seeing the bastard in the beautiful thing; he knew the gold hues would match perfectly against the idiot's sun-kissed skin, and the black around the corner of the eye openings, and where it would gently tuck above his ears, would bring out the emerald in his eyes to the point where they would seem to glow…and the tiny amount of long feathers jutting out from the right side would match so well with his already beautiful hair. With another sigh, Romano's eyes drifted back to Antonio, his vision drifting over his strong jaw bone and the cute way his bottom lip was gently sucked into his mouth as he worked so diligently to make the shoes in his hands as shiny as possible…he was suddenly thankful that the mask would only cover the upper part of Antonio's face. "Lovi~ You should put on your mask, so I will know who to look for at the festival~" a hum came from Antonio's throat as he finished with the first shoe.

"What, we're not going together?" Romano snapped back, furrowing his brows together in both anger and confusion.

Antonio chuckled, allowing one of his unclothed feet to brush against Romano's. "No, no. We can't, Lovino. I have to leave earlier than everyone else, and it is forbidden for me to bring anyone. You'll have to wait for Francis and Gilbert to pick you up after I go."

Romano only scowled even more. "And why the hell can't I go with you?'

"Ah~ you'll just have to wait and see, darling~" Romano twitched at the name Antonio called him, before wrinkling his nose in displeasure and allowing his toes to sink painfully into the bastard's shin. "Ow-ow-ow, that hurt, Lovi." he whined with a pout, although he refused to stop polishing that stupid shoe.

"Don't call me fucking _darling_, you sappy bastard."

"Aw~ Why not? I think it's very fitting; you are my one and only _darling_ after all." Antonio smiled, pausing to gently gaze up at the now blushing Italian. "If not darling, then what should I call you, hmm?"

"H-how about m-my fucking n-name!" Romano sputtered behind his snarl, refusing to meet Antonio's softening gaze, although his fingers unconsciously drew circles on the corner of the golden mask…_Just like the sun_… he thought to no one in particular, once again feeling those toes lovingly brush against his calf. His head snapped up with a glare attempting to burn a hole through that overly affectionate bastard, but Antonio easily countered it with the sugar-coated smile in his forest-green orbs.

"I think you like it when I call you by my lovely nicknames, my precious Lovi~"

"And why the h-hell is that!"

Antonio let out a small breathy chuckle as he reached over the table to cover Romano's hand with his own, gently rubbing his thumb over the tanned knuckles. "Because." He purred, interlacing his fingers between Romano's before giving them a light squeeze, tenderly smiling as his face darkened a few shades of red, "Your curl gives it away~"

"The _hell_!" Romano growled, snatching his hand away from the _still_ grinning bastard.

"Ah, yes~ I still don't understand why, but that lovely curl of yours forms a heart whenever you adore what someone has said or done to you."

This surprised the Italian…that the idiot was able to figure that out so quickly; Spain _never_ came to that conclusion, no matter how many times Romano caught him staring at that specific curl, fighting back the urge to reach out and twirl it in his fingers, and straighten it back out…but Romano wouldn't let this bastard be so smug about what he thought he figured out. He snarled, leaning forwards on one of his elbows. "Prove it, bitch."

Antonio sighed, leaning and reaching his hand out to cup Romano's cheek, pulling him closer until he could easily lay a kiss below his left eye, instantly making the flesh burn a dull pink. "You're so handsome, my love." He hummed, allowing his lips to dip back down and brush against Romano's, forcing the rest of his face to flush and sending a tingle across his skin to prick at his scalp. "I could kiss you all day, if you'd let me~" A thick, painful swallow made its way from Romano's throat just as his eyes flickered back down to the very, _very_ interesting wood on the table. Dammit, he knew that the bastard already proved his point, but he just didn't stop…with all of the very flattering compliments, and loving touches that Romano craved more than food and siestas. A single finger tapped at his chin, before gently sliding under it, and lifting so his face was forced to meet Antonio's. "You would like that, no?" the brunet continued, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side, softly smiling with his eyes and his lips.

A half-hearted scoff broke from Romano, despite the fact that he knew his face was slowly drifting closer to Antonio's and burning a brilliant red. "No…bastard. I wouldn't."

Gentle chuckles rolled off of his tongue at the Italian's response. "You reject it, yet your curl is still shaped into a heart, _darling_~"

There just wasn't any point in denying it…just from the pleasant tingle in his scalp, he knew it was true…he constantly failed to remain immune to that bastard's sweet words and caresses, and always was left just wanting _more_ and _**more**_…but when would it stop? When would a simple hug not be enough to satisfy the feelings building up in his heart day after day? Romano stared into the eyes gazing back into his, emeralds upon amber, before the space between them was kicked into oblivion, and their lips met; sweet…chaste…yet still dripping with a layer of unmistakable _want_ that had strengthened immensely over the past eleven days, despite how much Romano hated it... he…he could no longer decide if he truly wanted to keep Antonio pushed so far away from his heart…to keep his love reserved for a man who would never be able to return the love that he yearn for, so goddamn much…but day…after fucking day… that resolve cracked, and who was the one who picked up those pieces, melding them and reforming them to benefit himself? Well…it really wasn't hard to guess…and…and Romano felt so _dirty_ for feeling this way…after only a month, but…it still felt like he knew the man, caressing his cheeks with his warm, soothing breath, for his entire life… He hated himself for it…but… he just _knew_ what he wanted to be all lies…just fucking lies that he could brush into a bin and throw away, forgetting about them forever…dammit…why did this shit always have to happen to him…but now…sadly...he knew how his brother felt when he constantly cried for that Holy Rome bastard, and yet, still loved Germany with every breath that he could muster. Loving someone so similar...yet completely different.

...It was painful, wasn't it Feliciano?

The kiss only lasted a few seconds; no matter much Romano's mind tricked him into thinking it lasted hours. Antonio pulled away, not before pecking him once more though, and leaned back in his chair with a calm, yet contented expression radiating from his face. Romano, on the other hand, scowled and leant back as well, narrowing his eyes to seem more threatening than he really was. "What the hell was that kiss for, bastard?" he growled, tucking his feet under the chair so Antonio wouldn't be able to reach them with his own...although he could still reach the other male's knees, much to his dismay.

"Because I love you." Antonio simply replied, smiling that tender smile that he _knew_ Romano loved more than tomatoes and pasta. The Italian gave a grunt for a response, crossing his arms over each other and shifting his gaze out the back door, admiring the fantastic view of the sun sinking over the horizon, and into the world below the ring of mountains that surrounded the western border of the country. Sure, he may have watched Antonio finish polishing his shoes from the corner of his eye...and sure, he may have allowed his legs to stretch back out and gently stroke those larger feet with his own...but he never would've admitted it...

Nor would he admit to the faint smile that emerged on his lips when he noticed that Antonio paused, and sweetly grinned at him.

* * *

><p>Despite it being well after the sunset, and cold as fuck outside, the festival still turned out to be...rather pleasant so far. There was an abundance of lights, colours, sounds, aromas... <em>everything<em> you could imagine from a cultural festival; Men wore their best suits, just as Francis had said, and intricate, homemade masks adorned their faces, preventing their identity to easily be revealed to anyone they spoke to, while women dressed in thick, brightly coloured dresses that complimented their figures and matched the masks they also wore. It was as if Romano was lost in a masquerade, fascinated by all of the people that he would meet, yet never truly know if he'd ever see them again...although, thankfully he added after initially arriving, Francis, Gilbert and Ludwig never separated from him. Antonio, on the other hand, was still nowhere to be seen...but at least they knew what each other's mask looked like, so it _would_ be easier to find him later on.

But it still pissed him off that they couldn't come together.

"Where the fuck is that bastard!" Romano shouted out above a particularly noisy crowd of patrons, amazed that Francis could even hear him over the blare of the music and roar of the excited voices.

"You'll have to find him yourself~ He didn't tell us anything about not being able to come with you, _mon cher._" The blond replied, re-tying his crimson mask to his head after Gilbert pulled it off only moments before.

"Yeah! We're just as in the dark as you are!" Gilbert added, his entire face hidden behind his hooked mask, making him look like a Plague Doctor from Romano's home world, and his pure black suit didn't help him seem less...well...creepy. "So come on! Let's enjoy his while we still can, right West?"

Ludwig, who was nestled in Gilbert's arms, smiled from behind his own mask. "Right, right!" he giggled, wrapping his arms around his brother's neck, snuggling into the side of his face. "Let's have fun!" His brother allowed him to touch the ground, and those two scampered off into the crowd to have their _adventures_, leaving Francis and Romano behind.

"Well, well, Lovino. It's just you and I now~" the blond purred, although his words fell upon deaf ears as Romano continued to scan the crowd for that idiot bastard...but after a few moments, he huffed and finally allowed his amber eyes to drift towards Francis...as much as he'd rather look at _anything _else but the bearded freak; a scowl buried darkened his brows, and his lips curled up to reveal his teeth.

"Touch me, you die." Was the only warning that he gave the bastard before he neared him. Francis could only let out a loud chortle.

"_Non, non_! I don't want to face the wrath of a love-struck Antonio~" He smiled at the scowling Italian, a smirk soon forming on his lips. "Do you miss him already?"

"What! No!" Romano retorted, glad that the mask would be hiding the red burning away at his cheeks from the drawn-out laughs of the blond. He didn't miss the fucker...he just didn't want to be stuck with Francis for too long since that albino bastard just _had_ to run off with his brother, leaving him with the perverted freak. "What the hell is there to do around here?"

"Ah~ well it a bit into the night, but everything is still directed more for the children. In a moment, adults get to have all the fun~"

"Fun?"

"You'll see." Another purring laugh escaped Francis, and he gently grabbed the Italian by his wrist as an indication for him to follow. Romano did follow him, after giving him another harsh glare, and they traversed the thick crowd, going west until they came to the edge of both the city and the festival. Here, a large number of people were standing around a barren platform surrounded by candle lit lanterns of gold and red, giving the entire area a warm, welcoming aura, but the two didn't stand among the patrons. No, they ventured off to the side and sat at the empty tables; while they still had a perfect view of the platform, there was plenty of room for people to cram their little asses in there and block off their sight. Francis leaned back in the chair that he occupied, rolling his shoulders before tossing a glance at Romano. "I wonder who will do the dance this year~" he hummed, glancing down as he flicked some loose dirt off his shoe.

"No idea what you're rambling about." Romano droned, crossing his arms and staring off at nothing in particular. Maybe, since that bastard wasn't there to get jealous, he should flirt with some of the women and get to know more people who lived in the region.

A short chuckle left those perverted lips, and he leaned on the table, boring those icy blue eyes deep into Romano's skull, who merely shot a glare back at the blond. "_The Dance of Lust_~" He hummed, grinning even wider at the confused peak in the Italian's brows. "It marks the beginning of the adult portion, at least in this part of the city."

"Is that so..." He was getting bored with this shit... This was more of a social event, and Romano just wasn't one to talk to random people...Antonio knew that very, very well, yet he still practically begged for the brunet to come only to leave him early, and leave him with his perverted friends. That idiot was going to get it when Romano found him.

"Thankfully, they reserve this honour for those who are currently trying to court a potential _mate_; there is a legend that goes along with the dance." Francis continued, smiling as Romano rolled his eyes, before shifting them towards the blond, as if he would only listen because there was nothing else for him to do at the moment. "The dancer will choose someone out of the audience, and if they can keep up with him or her, they will be happily married until they die."

Romano scoffed, picking at the candle in the centre of the table with his middle finger. "That's utter bullshit. Legends are nothing but over-exaggerated lies."

"Say that to the past dancers." Romano scowled at the smirking blond, knowing that the bastard was just trying to trick him. A dance bonding two people in marriage forever? What crap...even Feliciano could come up with better shit than that...while completely hammered...and high...on fucking pot, courtesy of Holland of course. Ugh. That idiot Antonio had better get off his lazy ass, wherever he was, and entertain Romano, or else he was just going to leave and scamper his butt back to bed where he would sleep until morning came, and then yell at the bastard until he cowered before him.

Just as Romano was about to open his mouth and complain some more to the bearded freak, all of the lanterns illuminating the platform before them faded, leaving the crowd in darkness, save for the dull candles scattered around the tables. "Oooh~ The dancer has_ arrived_~" Francis practically purred, a sense of lust underlying the flick of his tongue, yet Romano only huffed.

_She'd better be hot._

A sound echoed throughout the silence of the crowd; a lone cord plucked from an acoustic guitar, quickly followed by three more strums before they were left to drift among the ears of the listeners, caressing their ears with the soothing notes. More complementing notes were played, followed by a soft chord as a single light lit up in the centre of the podium; a match, by the looks of it, but it failed to illuminate the holder's face, only their long, sinewy fingers, and the edge of their white shirt. The dancer raised the match well above their head, effectively lighting the lantern before moving to the others. Once by one, the lanterns once again began to emit their glow in tune with the slow strums of the guitar, illuminating the floor below them with a soft radiance that captured Romano's mind, though not as much as the dancer_ himself_. Such a brilliant white shirt that the man adorned, sticking and rolling with the man's smooth movements as if it was a second skin, and it flashed those delicious, tanned collar bones with every movement of his broad shoulders. And those black pants...oh god how they clung to his legs and hips, making them seem longer and sexier than they already were, flattering his body in every way imaginable while still leaving him with an elegant aura that usually failed to even float around the bastard. Off to Romano's side, Francis sighed, seeming disappointed before mumbling to himself. "No wonder he seemed so happy last month."

But the Italian ignored what the blond grumbled; he was far too busy gawking at the tanned man who was still holding that stupid little match, that is, until it burned down to the tip of his finger and was extinguished by the calloused flesh. His arms reached towards the flawless night sky, fingers grasping at the stars and at the chords that rung out in the air before they gracefully lowered, sliding over his chest in a way that made Romano's mouth go dry. That bastard grinned, closing his emerald eyes and turning his head slightly to the side as those fingers brushed over his sides, arms crossing over his stomach and hips swiveling in time with the slow strums of the guitar. He made a slow twirl, allowing his hands to snake back up his body, rake through his chocolate curls and extend towards the skies once more, earning a few shouts from the watchers, women and men alike.

A strange growl purred in Romano's throat, matching the way that his eyes hungrily gazed at the swaying man, and he fought back the urge to punch those howling bastards in the face for even looking at the male before him. Those delicious hips rolled into each slow movement the brunet made, matching the elegant sways and twists he created on the large platform, forming what could be called a one-manned Ballroom Samba, all while eating away at Romano by not even opening those eyes to scan the crowd...no...they remained closed, hidden to the audience, as if he was too shy to meet their lustful gazes...And Romano finally understood what this was...he literally was selling himself with his movements, with his dexterity and flexibility...for the one most worthy of his body...and it was tearing away at Romano's mind, doing everything it could to lure him up to the stage...for that idiotic bastard to claim him as his own. It was small, but the grin that stretched across the dancer's lips elicited an unfamiliar tingle to break over Romano's skin, only to unfurl against his tongue as it smoothly jutted out to gently graze the outside of his own lips.

What was wrong with him...getting so turned on by just watching the man fucking _dance_ with those soft rolls of his hips around every slow spin...around every melodious twang of the strings... around every flick of his wrist...God, Romano had never yearn for something so bad in his _life_, and sinking his nails into the skin of his legs really didn't lessen it as much as he would've liked. Then the music slightly quickened, and those licentious emeralds opened to gaze down at him, beckoning him to _dance_ with the man.

Never before had such _human_ emotions coursed through his body.

* * *

><p><strong>Antonio's POV<strong>

Antonio could feel the sweat trickle at the edge of his hairline, feeling unbearably hot despite the frigidness of the air around him, and when his eyes finally opened, falling on his sweet little Lovino glaring at him with those absolutely _pleasurable_ amber behind that silver and onyx mask, oh he almost lost it. He grinned, snapping his hips to the music while his arms smoothly twirled in the air; flawless, if the visible swallow Lovino took was anything to go by. Gliding across the small stage, he flaunted his body around, rolling and grinding his hips into the air as his legs gracefully carried him into his steps before he paused in the centre, taking a small breath before continuing in his dance. His eyes never left Lovino, using his expressions to judge the effectiveness of his body; doing everything he could to lure the man with him on the stage, craving to have that delicate skin pressed against his own, moving against him in a dance that would seal them together for eternity...as if the metal nestled in his pocket wouldn't be enough.

A fire was raging inside of him, and he very well knew it, even if it wasn't exactly _time_ for those types of feelings to emerge from their holds, and he half wondered when Lovino would experience the same thing as he made another twirl among the jagged steps that were added into his dance. Another twitch vibrated off of the lovely man sitting only a few feet away, forcing a deeper smile onto Antonio's lips and he copied the step once more, earning another shutter from the smaller male. Ah~ Lovely Lovi was responding very _well_ to the irresistible call of his body and if everything went according to the careful planning he had made over the week, it wouldn't be long...not long at all, and Antonio didn't know how much longer he could wait for it...it had been almost a full _year_ since the last time, and that wasn't out of love...no...not at all. Only built up frustration had fuelled the action every single time in the past. He flicked his wrists, enjoying the way that Lovino's eyes darkened as the music once again slowed, allowing him to saunter over to the sitting male with that mask blocking his beautiful face. It had to be tossed, blocking those eyes and cheeks from his view, and he did just that when he reached Lovino; gently sliding it off of his porcelain skin before allowing his hands to graze over the newly exposed flesh.

Lovino shuddered, although a deep growl groaned from his throat as he stood. Antonio couldn't help but to chuckle, tracing the male's jaw with his fingers, faintly noticing how Lovino's eyes now were set only an inch below his as he backed away with his arm remaining stretched out, beckoning the scowling man to pursue him.

And he took the bait.

With such grace and exuberance that Antonio had never seen radiate from the man, Lovino followed him, slightly matching his steps as the guitar somewhere behind them in the darkness chimed another note, and then once more when they reached the wooden platform. Another guitar joined the original, strumming out slow chords as the two men met in the centre of the stage, circling around each other with their eyes never leaving the other's. Lovi growled low at Antonio, so low that he could hardly hear the words flicking off of his tongue. "You're not wearing your mask... and you made me come here just for _this_ shit?"

The now just _slightly_ taller man softly giggled, allowing his hands to trail over those gorgeous hips clothed in an equally gorgeous black suit that made his precious Lovino look so dashingly handsome. "Yes, my love~" he purred, trailing those fingers of his right hand up Lovino's side, stopping only to grasp the lighter hand into his own. "The mask would only get in the way...Think you can keep up?" Lovino scoffed, raising his free hand to lightly touch Antonio's shoulder, before pulling him close; so close that he could feel the male's scalding breath upon his lips.

"You don't know who you're dealing with, bastard."

**~Short time later~**

Antonio had never wanted to get home so quickly in his entire life. He glanced back at the man he was dragging by his wrist behind him, fighting every urge to just jump the man in the middle of the forest...god, he could already see the candles flickering in the windows of his house, yet it did nothing to calm the cravings his body screamed at him; Lovino _had_ been able to keep up with his pace, moving as if he had danced his entire life and driving Antonio insane with every single brush of his hips against his own...and now he really, _really, __**really**_ wanted to be alone with the grumbling man, so he tugged a tiny bit harder, earning a scowl but also a quickened pace in return. Cold air bit at his face and skin, and he slightly cursed himself for not thinking hard enough to bring a coat with him...but in the end, not having it would make things run a bit smoothly...that is, if Lovino complied with what his current wishes... He did understand what that whole dance was for...right? And...and...and those looks he was giving him during the entire thing; those looks of hunger and desire...Antonio wasn't imagining them, was he? No...impossible. It had to be...Lovino never would've danced with him if he _didn't_ want to...to...

"Hey, bastard. Walk any further and you'll hit the fucking door."

Oh...when did he reach the house? A nervous chuckle rumbled in his throat, and his hand only tightened around Lovino's wrist, nearly to the point where the man flinched in pain...He...he couldn't back out now...no...not after he had waited _eight_ years for this moment... he couldn't back out now...the last time he did that...Lovino disappeared for so..so-so-so long, leaving Antonio heartbroken every single moment of those long, excruciating years. Lovi didn't even call him by his old nickname anymore... but... He had to do it now...and he was so _sure_ that he would be..._accepted._

"Lovino..." he spoke, keeping his eyes low as he forced the man to stand before him with his back slightly pressed against the door. Lovino glared at him, not even trying to escape from his hold, even when Antonio released his hand, only to press his palms against those warm, and oh so very lovely hips. "_Lovino..._" he practically groaned, pressing his body against Lovino's. He did nothing in response to Antonio...he only stared, his frown wavering, and cracking to reveal a side that seldom showed itself to anyone. Their lips were only centimetres apart...their breath washing against the other's, meeting in the middle and swirling down to the earth as a hot mist before evaporating into the chilly night air...It...was perfect...everything. The lack of snow...lack of clouds, exposing the twinkling stars as specks against the inky canvas called the sky, and the warmth of the man against him, warming him in the chill of the winter air... "_Lovi..._" Antonio whispered, allowing one hand to slide from Lovino's waist to grasp his hand in his willowy fingers. "_Marry me._"

Oh..._oh_ that was _not_ the look he wanted...so shocked...so...mortified...and...Were those _tears_ building up in his eyes...oh no...no-no-no...this was not what he wanted. "B-bastard..." Lovino choked out, and so many expressions flashed across his face...pain...guilt...horror...oh god, what the hell was Antonio thinking...he just knew something like this would happen...it was simply too early...too damn early...and it broke his heart.

"I-I-I'm sorry..." Antonio murmured, allowing Lovino's hand to fall from his own and his head to shrink into his shoulders. "I sh-shouldn't had asked...such..such a-"

"_Idiot!_" Lovino shouted with such a deep red spreading across his face, even though his eyes refused to meet Antonio's. "I-I n-n-never said...n-n-no..." he whispered, so faintly that it was difficult for the larger male to understand him.

A flutter shot through Antonio's heart at the soft voice, and he glanced back at Lovino's eyes, so desperately wanting to see them...and the real, kind, _loving_ Lovino he knew existed behind that wall he created the moment he met him under that tree, after so many years of missing him dearly. "Y-y-ou mean..." He stuttered, feeling his fingers twitch in anticipation. Lovino slightly pouted, but he finally allowed his eyes to gaze into Antonio's...and how beautiful they were with the moon glimmering off of them like water trickling over glass.

"How long...will it take t-to...to be...w-well..." he stammered, nervously brushing his fingers against the low collar of Antonio's shirt, before trailing them across the silver chain he had made earlier.

"To be considered...a...a... legal c-couple?" Antonio replied, slowly pressing his body against Lovino's once more...just where it belonged. The blushing male nodded, watching with curious eyes as Antonio dipped his fingers into his pocket, pulling out a pair of identical metal bracelets. With the gentlest touch he could muster, Antonio slipped his hand around Lovino's left wrist, bringing it down so his forearm would be parallel to the ground below them. "With our k-kind..." he whispered, watching Lovino's expressions as he carefully wrapped one of the intricately carved strips around the wrist so much thinner than his own, admiring how the gold glimmered against the sun-kissed skin and how snugly it fit, allowing him to move his wrist comfortably without worry of it sliding off or snagging on clothing. One could easily mistake the bracelet as some kind of shining tattoo. "_This_ is the only thing we need..."

Lovino brought the bracelet closer to his eyes, before shifting his gaze to the metal remaining in Antonio's hand...and then something must've clicked inside his head because within seconds, he snatched the larger wrist into his hand and gently took the jewellery...no..._marriage _band from Antonio's fingers...and wrapped it around the flesh... and then...stared at it...comparing Antonio's band to his. "_H-husband..._" he muttered, permitting his fingers to graze against the darker, rougher flesh...and it sparked something inside of Antonio...Lovino...technically was _his_...but...but it just wasn't enough...no... His body desired _more..._ something to prove to himself that his sweet little _Roma_ would always be his...

Without any kind of warning, Antonio grasped Lovino tightly to his body and pressed his lips against the smaller, softer ones...and with a moan, that sweet little mouth opened...no... _ravished_ his with the cherry tongue hidden inside. Hands clung to his shoulders, hips rocked up to meet his with delicious moans and pants that rolled from his throat like waves. Oh, _Roma_ was so...so...perfect...so perfect that Antonio's couldn't even think properly when he trailed his darkened hands down that faultless back clothed in _too much_ clothing and roughly grasped the wonderful ass that waited for him. Lovi gasped into his mouth at the touch, moaning his name under his breath as his back arched forward and his arms wrapped around his shoulders, craving every last _drop_ of the attention that he was receiving. Shamelessly, their hips ground against each others, further fueling the arousal and passion the grew inside their bodies, constantly wanting more, and _**more **_each passing second, and pushing away any rational thought that may have skipped across their minds. Antonio shifted his precious Roma in his arms, growling into their frantic kisses as he felt legs wrapping around his waist and fingers tugging at his hair. He wanted Lovino... He wanted that body wrapped tighter around him...he wanted to feel him from every possible angle...to completely _ravish_ that body with so much pleasure until he screamed out his name in complete ecstasy. He wanted his _mate_, and he wanted him _now_.

Between gasps and slurred moans, Antonio shifted his weight so he could grasp for the handle to the door, and within a few tries, he succeeded in tearing the door open, not even caring how hard it slammed into the wall. Light engulfed what little sight he could make out from the lustful haze blinding him, along with a few shouts that sounded a bit like Arthur...but he really didn't give a damn at the moment. Leaving the door wide open, he quickly made his way up the stairs, careful to not drop Lovino in the process while the lighter man continued to weakly buck against him, moaning his name as their lips and tongues slid over each other. The next thing he knew, that body was writhing under him as he flopped onto the soft covers on his mattress, still desperately grinding his arousal into Lovino's equally hard manhood. "I love you." Antonio groaned when Lovino parted from him, to depart with his jacket and the shirt under it. "I love you, _Roma_." He gasped as kiss-swollen lips grazed against his neck before rough fingers tore at his shirt in an attempt to get it off. Another moan left his throat as he dove back down, mashing that flesh against his own. So good...so-so-so _good~_ ah, how absolutely _wonderful _Lovino's skin felt against his chest, rubbing and slipping against the small amount of sweat that began to coat their bodies.

"_Antonio~_" Lovi whispered, desperately gripping at the dark curls on Antonio's head. "A-ah, Anto-tonio..." a groan this time, matching the kisses the sloppily mashed against the other male's mouth. "I f-fucking l-love you-ahmmmmmmm..."

That was all Antonio needed to hear to rip the remaining clothes off of their bodies, as if they were made of poisonous material and tossed them across the room. Touches... kisses... groans...oh they littered the air with their blissful sounds, only growing louder as Antonio rocked his body into Lovino's, drawing out more moans and pants with every thrust of his hips. He didn't care how loud they were... or even if Arthur heard them...no. He wanted every single one of those sounds to be heard by _everyone_, for them to know that he claimed his childhood love as his own... for them to know that _he_ was the only one who could make those beautiful noises to purr from Lovino's mouth...from his _husband's_ mouth. It was all just so... just so...

_Perfect._

And as they lay in each other arms, basking in the soft radiance washing off of their sweat and love drenched skin... oh, it was like no other feeling Antonio could ever imagine. Lovino smiled at him with such a gaze that had never crossed his eyes before, and then lightly kissed him on the lips with a soft sigh. "I love you, my beautiful Roma." Antonio hummed, snuggling closer to his love, though he doubted that Lovi actually heard what he had said, for he was already drifting away into the realm of dreams. Grazing his hands through the strands of chocolate hair matted down with sweat, Antonio smiled, wrapping his arms around Lovino's torso before allowing his eyes to flutter shut in an attempt to fall asleep himself...

That is...

If that fucking bastard from downstairs didn't burst through his door only a minute later. He was very, oh so _very_ lucky that Lovino didn't wake up from that jarring, and oddly desperate sounding voice that roared though his room. "Antonio! _Antonio, _ get your bloody arse up!"

"No. Go away." Antonio groaned, snuggling his head closer to Lovino's.

"Antonio, this is important! Get. Your. Arse. Up."

With a sigh, Antonio propped himself up, slightly amused how his precious Roma whined and attempted to cuddle closer to him, then he glared at the blond...oh...what was that on his hands and shirt..._blood_? Hmm... did he chop off his penis or something? That would be wonderful~

"Get _him_ up too. This will involve both of you."

Antonio frowned. "His name is Lovino. Call him that."

Arthur visibly shuddered, frantically glancing down the stairs before glaring at Antonio once more. "Whatever, just _hurry up._" And with that, he scampered back out the door, leaving Antonio wondering why he seemed so... strange. _Nothing_ ever shook Arthur up like that...

Might as well see what it was.

So with a soft nudge, Antonio attempted to wake up Lovino, chuckling when his hands were swatted away shortly before those amber eyes pried themselves open. "What the hell..." he slurred, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "Did I even sleep for five fucking minutes? Why the hell did you wake me up?" he groaned, throwing a weak glare at Antonio.

"Arthur has something he's freaking out about downstairs...apparently it will involve both of us." He sighed, amused how Lovino rolled his eyes and slid himself out of bed...though the wince that broke his face tugged at Antonio's heart. "I didn't hurt you... did I?" he nervously asked, his brows creating wrinkles against his forehead.

"I've been worse." Lovino sighed, searching for a pair of pants...which inspired Antonio to do the same thing. Soon enough, they were able to find clothing that weren't crumpled up..well except for Lovino's shirt, but he probably didn't really care; all he wanted to do was go back to sleep, and cuddle with his new husband...at least that was what Antonio assumed from the glare he shot down the stairs. "Let's get this shit over with." With a brisk nod, Antonio took the initiative to go down first, just in case Lovino's legs decided to give out on him...with the obvious limp in his stride... Perhaps...just maybe, Antonio had been a little too rough with him...

Arthur stood at the base of the stairs, his arms crossed and still spotted with blood...that also stained the floor from the entryway... Antonio's ever so curious eyes followed the streak of red, over the couch...that had a brown haired child laying on it, sound asleep...who was that? He had blood on him too, but it was not nearly as bad as the horrid amount that had spilled on the floor, pooling up around a pair of shoes coming into his view...followed by long legs and...and... Antonio's eyes widened, his jaw slacking at the man lying before him, beside the edge of the couch...who noticed him as he stopped on the stairs...and smiled through blood splattered lips.

"_Tona..._"


	12. Not an Angel

**This chapter... Some people are going to hate me.**

* * *

><p>Blood…<p>

There was just so much of it caked into the young man's dark skin, tattered clothes and dark brown hair. How was he still awake, or even alive for that matter? From Antonio's current angle, he couldn't make out any lesions on the child passed out on the couch, so every drop _had _to be from… _him_… and all of the _disgusting_ red mess had seeped from the pours of his shriveled right arm; it was… grotesque, if he wanted to make it seem _better _than it actually was. The flesh… was stained an inky black; some stretches of the skin across the appendage were withered and tightly stretched over the skeleton that lay underneath, almost to the point where it seemed it truly was made of onyx bones, while other areas… swollen… gooey… oozing out blood that looked more like crimson slime or syrup than the plasma furiously coursing through Antonio's throbbing heart, and… small shreds of the tainted skin appeared to be torn; as if something previously covered his entire arm, perhaps a bandage of some sort, and once it was removed, parts of his flesh peeled off with it. The blackness webbed off at the base of the man's shoulder, swelling and condensing in tune with his weak, shaking breaths, as if that monstrosity devouring his arm was alive as well, feeding off of his strength and growing with each bit that it drained.

But the man didn't seem to notice it at all, no matter how much his body shivered.

"_Tona_…" he wheezed again, those once empty golden olives sparking with life at the sight of Antonio, matching the way that his entire body twitched before his arms tensed, his muscles flexing as if testing their strength….and… and Antonio still had no earthly idea what the hell was going on, and the bile bubbling up in his throat really just didn't help. He shifted his sight back to Lovino… who had frozen at the top of the stairs. His eyes were impossibly wide with trepidation, his face void of all colour, leaving it pallid and somewhat sickly looking. So he heard the voice as well... that voice that was tuned exactly like his; echoed exactly like his, yet... _wasn't_ his. "_T-Tona_... I've missed y-you... s-so much...It's been eight...years..." Antonio's attention snapped back to the man sprawled out on the floor, a cold arrow shooting through his heart at the sound of the stutter from that dying mouth, and his brain began to slowly piece together things he should've questioned a long, _long_ time ago.

The strange, otherworldly languages that he constantly spewed... _Spain..._

The "lack" of memory, though he clearly acted as if he already knew many people he met...

The _changes_ that occurred much faster than normal...

The fact that he _died_, yet came _back_ to life hours later...

His scars disappearing in little over a month...

The second Lovino... _dying_ in a pool of his own blood, gasping and choking on the liquid welling up in his throat... all while trying so hard to lift himself off of his back, to get up and to pull his weight closer to Antonio... closer to the man he hadn't seen in _eight _years... the one that he called _Tona_ before he vanished... _Oh god..._

_Oh god, oh god, oh god..._

That man on the floor... _He_ was the Lovino from his childhood... the Lovino that his body had desired for so many _long_ years... Then who... _who _the man he had just made love to only moments before? Who was he _married_ to! "_Roma?..."_ Antonio croaked, barely coming out as a whisper, but he still managed to hear it. A flicker of joy sparked across the bloody Lov- _Roma's_ olive flecked eyes, and his smile widened as far as his weak lips would allow.

"Heh... So you can..._speak_...after all..."

Within seconds, Antonio had leaped down the remaining steps and dashed to Roma's side, gently sliding his arm behind the weak man's back to keep him from laying in the thick blood, even if it meant soiling his own knees and shins with the substance. Roma leaned into his touch, failing to notice how his deformed arm pressed into Antonio's chest, allowing his scalding blood to slither through the coarse fibers of his shirt and stick to his skin... but Antonio did his best to ignore it, fighting the urge to gag at the horrible sensation. "Oh, Roma..." he managed to choke out, his throat constricting around his words and attempting to burn a hole through this lungs from the sheer amount of force it took to keep himself from crying. "My _sweet_ Roma... What... what happened to you?"

Roma sighed, weakly nuzzling his forehead into Antonio's neck. "I don't know..." he whispered through his shaking breaths, lifting up his wrist to gaze down at his black fingers. "It started...with ch-chest pains... th...then I couldn't b-breath... and... and no strength... Oh...oh Tona..." he wheezed, using his left hand to clutch Antonio's shoulder, pulling him closer as tears streamed out of his blood-shot eyes. "I...I couldn't p-properly hunt... to keep my... ba...baby brother fed... I had... I had to do... _terrible_ things to f-feed him..." Antonio's heart clinched at those words... So the child... he was Roma's brother? "Please... _Tona_... take c-care of him... my l-little Feliciano..."

"What do you mean by that..." he quickly replied, his green eyes wide as Roma could only chuckle... laughing at the poor, poor state of his future, before those breaths quickly morphed into ruthless hacks and coughs, blood and saliva spewing out from stiff, chapped lips. Flecks of red splattered onto Antonio's chin and nose, but he refrained from wiping it away. "_Roma_, what do yo-"

"I'm _dying_, Antonio..."His voice was harsh, but the kiss he placed on Antonio's jaw was gentle... loving, even. "A man... tall, f-frightening man... snow blond hair... big nose... k-kind face... he came to me... a little over a month ago..." Roma wheezed, flickering his eyes up to Antonio's before raising his hand to brush away some of the curls around the healthier man's tear stained cheeks. He cupped the flesh in his palm, gently caressing the skin with his thumb... and Antonio couldn't hold back his tears anymore. They fell from his eyes and mouth alike, his voice curling and rumbling pathetic cries in his throat before they trickled from his parted lips, each sound and drop spotting on Roma's face or neck. "He told me..." Roma continued... his voice soft and growing weaker as his hand took its place curled against Antonio's neck. "I would...I would _die_, Tona... then he smiled... like it was _his _d-doing... he said... someone w-wanted an-nother me... to disappear... to _die_...so he was sent to...this world, but... since that _other me_ was stronger... _I_ would d-die in... his place... he...he _laughed, _then disappeared...absurd... isn't it?" Roma weakly chuckled, before his voice turned to a soft whisper. "I didn't believe him... but... a few hours later... my ch-chest felt like it would burst... and the next day... my fingers began to... to turn black..." he then fell silent for a moment, content with laying in Antonio's arms.

Another Lovino... sent to this world to die... and Antonio had met him around the time that Roma was approached by...by... whoever that man was, and Antonio had... _sex_ with that foreign Lovino... He had betrayed his childhood love... forgotten about him... _left_ him for _another_... He didn't deserve Roma's love; he didn't even deserve to live... More tears forced their way out of his eyes, and his wails became louder and choked with the rage and sadness welling in his heart. "Oh Roma... I'm so, so _so_ sorry..." he howled, burying his face into the blood caked tresses upon Roma's skull... they would be so soft, if they weren't matted down by that awful liquid, and would smell like the sun...without a doubt.

"You met him... didn't you, Tona?" Roma whispered calmly, his words void of any kind of negative emotion.

"Y-Yes..." Antonio choked out between callous inhales, clutching the weak male closer to his body... but when a small laugh purred in Roma's throat, he tried to halt his tears and pulled back, only to meet a kind smile.

"Was he nice to you?"

The question startled Antonio... but... but he _couldn't_ lie to his precious Roma... "Yes... he was." He replied in a low, shameful voice, and a small part of his mind registered a desperately muted sob from the direction of the stairs. Roma only sighed, allowing a smile to part his ruby splattered lips before lightly shifting in Antonio's arms... only to freeze once his spine brushed over the metal still on the larger male's wrist.

His voice came out soft... a somewhat disappointing statement, rather than a question. "You're married." Antonio couldn't bear to look at the form in his arms.

"Yes..."

Roma closed his eyes, but a spark of pain across his features as his body arched from some unknown force... though, just as quickly as the sensation came, he relaxed once again into Antonio's arms. "Is she pretty?"

Another sob forced itself from Antonio's lips. "Beautiful."

Roma chuckled, muttering something under his breath that Antonio failed to properly catch. "She's a lucky woman... to have you." Ice...Painful, scalding ice pierced Antonio's heart at the flicks of the young man's tongue, producing more cries out of the already sore throat of the Lowlander. Roma had _no_ idea who he was married to... No earthly _idea_ who had replaced him in his absence... and Antonio couldn't bring himself to tell the man. "I always... just _knew_ that... I wouldn't... have you..." He sighed, his head gently rubbing against the underside of Antonio's jaw... and he could feel the tears that trickled out of Roma's eyes... They were cold... colder than anything else Antonio had ever felt, and they stung at his skin... _clawing_ at it with their horrid nails.

Antonio had broken their promise... and in turn, he _knew_ that it had shattered something in his dear Roma. "I'm so... so sorry, Roma..." He blubbered, his tears making his lips wet... to the point where it became hard to form proper words without slurring, and meshing them together. Roma merely sighed though a fragile smile, shaking his head as he did so.

"Don't... be sorry..." he whispered, allowing his hand to cup Antonio's cheek once more, and forcing him to look into his eyes. "Love h-her... like I l-love you..." Oh...oh Antonio let out an awful, bloodcurdling wail; sniffling and choking on his own cries, even as Roma gently cooed to him, brushing away the tears that poured from his eyes. "Shh...Shhh. Don't c-cry, Tona..." Antonio hiccuped between gasps, doing his best to calm down... just for Roma... but it was difficult, knowing what would be in mere moments... it was amazing that Roma had made it as long as he did, with all of the blood that he had already lost, and that he was able to even talk through the jagged breaths that constantly clawed their way from his lungs. But... his ailment didn't even seem to faze him; he merely grinned, running his fingers through the russet curls behind Antonio's ear.

"I...I love you Roma... I h-have ever since I first met you... sixteen years ago." Antonio whimper, brushing away a few strands of blood soaked hair that stuck to Roma's face... but the Alitian only frowned, sadness swirling in the darkest points of his olive eyes.

"You _can't_... you _can't_...love... me, Tona..." he whispered, his voice suddenly much weaker, and scratchier than it had been only moments before. "You...You have...to _love_... your wife... not... me." Roma's breaths became labored and shallow as he tried so hard to gulp down air through the blood that drained out from his lips and nose, and his blackened arm jerked up, desperately clutching onto Antonio's shirt, smearing shreds of the dead flesh and blood across the clothing. "I...swear..." he sneered through gritted teeth, "if you... leave...her... because of me..." a deep inhale separated his words, followed by a harsh cough before he continued, "I... will f-fucking... _kill_...you..." A miserable chuckle forced itself through Antonio's tears, although the painful liquid still trailed down his face, if not more than before. Roma still was the same spitfire he was as a child... and strangely... it made Antonio glad.

"I won't... I won't..." he snuffled, casting a tender smile down at Roma. He only pouted in return.

"Y-you better...not..." Roma's eyes fluttered, squeezing shut as he sucked in air through his teeth and buried his face deeper into Antonio's neck. "Tona... it _hurts_..." he managed to croak, before his legs jerked, slipping in the half-dried pool of blood, forcing a cry from Roma's lips and a hurried caress to his back from Antonio. "M-make... it _stop_... _**Make it stop!**_" He clutched at his left thigh with both hands, digging his nails into the dirty cloth that served as his pants. Without a second thought, Antonio reached down that same leg but...but oh the _horrifying_ screech that scraped against his eardrum like an iron knife against metal, and the constant writhing that encased Roma's body... it was almost too much. He gripped harder on Roma's thigh, trying to coax him to be still, but once he did... he felt something _soggy_ slip under his fingers... and a wet squelch met his ears along with more shrieks of pain. Slowly... he lifted his hand up from the appendage... and in that instant, he forced himself to swallow the bile that had surged up into the back of his mouth.

Strings of glutinous _blood_ dripped between his fingers and the now crimson soaked leg... and more of it oozed out from the points where Roma's nails still dug into his flesh. "Oh...oh _god_... what...wh-" Antonio couldn't even form a proper sentence in the sheer horror that coursed though his body, and Roma just wouldn't stop squirming in his grasp, thus ripping more skin off of his bones... He had to make him stop... even if it caused him more pain... Through his tears and sobs, Antonio wrapped his arms around Roma, doing his best to ignore the ringing in his ears from the intensity of the Alitian's screams and resist the kicks and jerks that shook the smaller man's frame. Roma... oh he was fighting so _hard_ to escape Antonio's grasp, but... but he refused to let go, even as Roma somehow managed to kick off one of his flimsy shoes, bearing the same black, gooey flesh of his right arm, only covering his foot and surely extending up to his thigh. He continued to scream and thrash against Antonio's hold, completely ignoring a soft whimper from the couch in front of the two, followed by a light shift of Feliciano's frame. Roma didn't even notice his brother drifting closer into the realm of reality, or even as the child sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

...And a pang of fear shot through Antonio... this... _this_ would scar the child forever... then... how could explain what he just witnessed... when he'd surely meet the other Lovino moments later? Antonio frantically searched for Arthur... only to find that he wasn't in the room anymore. He could try yelling for the man... but would he get there in time? Could he keep the boy from seeing his brother in such a state? ...He had no other choice...

"A-Arthur!" Antonio tried calling out, finding his voice easily overpowered by the man writhing in his arms. No reply... _Shit_... and he wouldn't be able to move Roma in time with all of the jerking and contractions he was making... Antonio glanced back down at Roma, and his heart tore into shreds at the sight of the tears and blood leaking out from his impossibly wide eyes. "Arthu-" He began to shout, but his voice caught in his throat. How the other Lovino was able to sprint down the stairs so noiselessly and so quickly made no comprehensible sense to the Ispiahnan... but, right now... it didn't really matter. He instantly coddled Feliciano in his arms, gently pressing the child's face into his neck and lifting him up, as one would a baby...

Apparently... the child assumed that it was his _brother_ holding him and snuggled into Lovino's body as he cooed to the little one, claiming that everything would be alright... and that his older brother was there... Then he flickered up his eyes towards the two on the ground; his red blotched cheeks were stained with tears, matching the pink hue to the whites of his eyes, and strands of his tear-matted hair stuck to his face... he... he looked _miserable_... and... more tears bled from his eyes once Roma became silent, save for his harsh breaths, as his attention fell on the clone holding his brother... and as he noticed the wedding band around Lovino's wrist. In that instant... Antonio _knew_ Roma had realized _who_ he was married to...

But...

Roma only smiled... as if he was _glad_ to know that it was _Lovino_ who replaced him in Antonio's heart... to know that he loved the dying man so much... that he fell in love with someone looking _exactly_ like him, without knowing that it _wasn't_ him... and... that _wonderful_ trait, being able to forgive so easily... it made Antonio jealous, for he just _couldn't _do something such as that... no matter how much he tried. "T-t-take c-c-are of... o-of _him_..." he rasped to Lovino... who only returned a whine before sprinting back up the stairs with Feliciano... leaving the two alone once more. "T-T-Tona..." Roma stuttered as his body harshly convulsed, popping a few bones in the process. "P-Please... d-don't-t l-le-e" he began... before his mouth clamped shut, blood and breath alike spewing from his teeth, and his muscles uncontrollably jerked in every direction, each spasm more violent than the last. Once again, Antonio was forced to tighten his hold Roma, feeling the skin slide under his fingers like slime wrapped in wet paper, and developing a dull pain from the countless times Roma's head bashed into his jaw... but he ignored it. Instead... through the jagged tears that he also cried, he _sang_... He sang the very song that he would constantly hum to Lovino... the song that Roma had sung to him when they were still only children. And he refused to stop... even through particularly rough jerks that slammed into his stomach, leaving him breathless through his chokes and sobs. He hoped... that this would calm the man in his arms... that it would make everything better... that everything would return to the way that it _should've_ been. And then...

Everything stopped.

Roma's seizure-like movements...

His harsh, painful breaths...

The weak fluttering of his heart...

All at the chime of midnight from the old clock upstairs. Roma's body fell suddenly limp... still, in Antonio's arms, who voice broke through his song, and through the soft rocking of his body as if he was trying to lull the dead man to sleep. He only gripped him closer, pressing his face into the man's shoulder and allowed a wail to muffle itself in Roma's skin.

* * *

><p>The burial itself was... short.<p>

With Roma's body laying next to him, Antonio dug a deep hole in the forest grove close to his home... alone... and, after clothing him in a proper shirt, he gently lowered the body into the grave after pressing a soft kiss to his lips... half wondering if he should just lay down beside his dead love... and wait until he took his last breath. But, even after such thoughts, he dragged himself out of the hole, and filled it back up with dirt... though drops of it turned to mud as it fell over Roma's corpse like soft, black snow. Then... he merely sat by the grave, burying his blood and dirt soaked hands in his hair, staring off into the blackness that surrounded him.

What would he do? What _could_ he do? He sniffled, hating the cold tingle on the side of his head from his bracelet... it was mocking him... tormenting him of the lies he had been living... of the lies that had been fed to him by Lovino... Did he even love that man... or was it merely because he _looked_ like his precious Roma? Lovino... he _had_ to feel some kind of affection towards Antonio... or he would've never agreed to marry him... but what would he do now... now that he knew the _truth_? What would _Antonio_ do? Continue as if nothing ever happened? No... he couldn't do that... he couldn't bring himself to be so selfish... to completely ignore that Lovino wasn't Roma. He sighed... craning his neck back so he could gaze at the dark sky peeking though the forest's evergreen fingers and he couldn't see the stars anymore. It was nothing but black and the orange moon that hovered off in the corner of the sky. No calming snow that seemed to constantly flutter down in the winter... no fluffy white clouds that he loved seeing no matter what time of the year it was... just... utter darkness.

A biting wind wrapped around Antonio's bare arms, stabbing at his blood drenched muscles with their icy knives, and he rubbed his appendages, attempting to fight off the onslaught of chills stampeding though his body. He... he needed to return home... to wash away all of the blood that would surely stain the floor if left untended. Antonio stood, using his shovel as a prop to get up to his feet before taking one last look at the unmarked grave... although... he would always be able to remember where it was... Since... it was one of the only places in the forest one could easily make out the stars in the sky... sometimes even when the sun was shining brightly... "I will always love you... Roma..." Antonio whispered as he turned and walked back home in complete silence.

Gravel, twigs and leaves alike crushed under the weight of Antonio's boots, taunting him as he drew closer and closer to the only thing shining out in the countryside, and he drug the shovel behind him... not caring about the sharp screech the metal emitted every time it bounced off of a rock. He just didn't care anymore... and when the tool toppled over as he propped it up on the side of the barn... he didn't bend down to pick it back up... no... he merely glanced at it, before turning his attention to the back entrance of the house; someone was standing outside the door, though, only their silhouette was visible from Antonio's current distance. He neared the figure, his eyes and face both expressionless as he approached... and it remained that way, even as he stood only an inch from the man. Arthur sighed, before moving out of the larger man's way. "You need to talk to him." Those words were the only thing he heard before the door gently closed behind Antonio, leaving him alone in the dining room with Lovino...

The Roma clone didn't even look at Antonio as he entered, rather, he focused his attention on the specks scattered along the wooden floor; his shoulders were tense, fingers clinched, and that strange curl seemed to hand lower than usual. "Who are you?" Lovino twitched at the neutrality lathering Antonio's voice, but his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

"Does it really fucking matter?"

Antonio frowned, his eyes narrowing at the snarky ring to his reply. "You've already lied to me enough. What is your _real_ name!"

The man's eyes snapped up to Antonio's, a deep anger flaring behind the olive tone that made him want to lunge forward and shake him by his shoulders. "I've never fucking _lied_ to you, asshole! You're just too dense to figure anything out, you goddammed _idiot_!"

Oh... Oh that was the _wrong_ thing to say. Antonio leaped forward, tackling Lovino to the ground and pinning him down by his shoulders with a grip that made the man under him wince in pain. "You have done _nothing _but _lied_! How _**dare**_ you say that you didn't!" he snarled, feeling that feral warmth coarse through his veins like an old lost friend, and Lovino merely bared his teeth at the man holding him down, that same spark erupting through the muscles in his body.

"_Me? Lie?_ _**Hah**__!_ You've been doing that to yourself! _Not once_ have I claimed to know you from my childhood, nor have I ever said that I'm a fucking human! Learn to use your ears, bastard!" Lovino spat back, his brows casting dark, menacing shadows against his eyes and cheekbones. "I even _died, _and what did you do? You fucking asked me to_ marry_ you! Even a _dipshit _could see the idiotic reasoning behind that!" A roaring growl burst from Antonio's mouth at the last flick of Lovino's tongue, and he lifted the man's shoulders up from the floor before slamming them back down with all of the strength that he could muster.

"_**WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!**_" He screamed at the sneering Lovino below him, who didn't even seem fazed by the intimidation Antonio radiated.

"_Repubblica italiana_. _That_ is my real name, bastard." Lovino snarled, and it only grew to a sneering grin once Antonio's hands found their way to his throat. "But to make it easy for a lowly _human_ like _you_" he continued, sniggering as thumbs were pressed against his Adam's apple, "_Romano_ will be enough, you _disgusting_ human." Pressure was pressed down on Romano's throat, though it still wasn't enough to suffocate the monster.

"Why..." Antonio's voice dropped to a mere whisper, but his grip around Romano's neck didn't falter. "Why... why did you lie to me? Why did you... _why_?"

"Because you were only a temporary replacement."

Those words... for some reason that Antonio couldn't understand, _broke_ something inside of him... tearing at the already fragile strings of his heart... _Replacement_? So... all of those shy touches... kisses... hugs... they meant nothing to him? Only hollowed gestures? His grip slid from Romano's throat, slipping back down to his shoulders to desperately clutching them between his fingers... that had to be a lie... nothing but a _lie_... "You-you're lying!" he stuttered, his gaze shivering under the blank glare Romano shot at him.

"You're _nothing_ but a substitute, just like I was for that bitch." Romano growled, lifting himself up onto his elbows, and forcing Antonio to back away from him. "I was only using you for my own gain, just like _you_ used me."

"N-no! All lies!"

"_**LIES**_**!**," Romano bellowed, harshly gripping the necklace around Antonio's neck, and pulling down so he would be eye level with him. "Those _lies_ didn't seem to bother you while you were busy _fucking _me!"

The next thing Antonio knew... was that Romano had flown back a good foot or two, colliding with the chairs behind him and slamming his head into the underside of the table. The back of Antonio's neck stung where the chain had broken into shattered pieces, and a sharp pain prickled at his fist, where he had punched the smaller man in the face, sending him back into the broken heap that he currently lay. Romano coughed, surely cringing at the pain that erupted along his back, head and jaw before he forced himself to a sitting position. He scowled at Antonio, his grip around the majority of the necklace tightening almost to the point where the Ispiahnan could hear the metal screeching against each other. "I hate you." It was a simple growl that came from the monster before he stood, turning his back on Antonio and leaving the room.

Antonio followed him, glowering as he did so. "I never loved you." He growled, stopping at the edge of the couch and watching Romano as he made his way over to the fireplace. "_I never want to see you again_."

A harsh scoff left Romano, "Glad we finally have something in common." And with that, he slung the remains of the necklace into the fire before calmly removing himself from the house... not bothering to pack any clothing... not attempting to reason with Antonio about their senseless, hormone and emotion driven fury. He simply left without another word.

And the moment Antonio heard the front door shut, he dove for the fireplace, frantically trying to fish the chain out from the belly of the fire with his left hand. The metal burned at his flesh, charring it a deep red, but he refused to let out any kind of noise, instead, he rushed into the kitchen, placed the chain into the sink and began to pump water on it, along with allowing the liquid to slither over his hands. For some reason... he couldn't bear to depart with his beloved necklace, even if Romano was the one who constructed it... staring at it, he wondered if it could be repaired... he could always ask Tino to fix it... but it would surely cost a hefty sum, which Antonio didn't have... and he couldn't be taken as an apprentice, as the Nfinian had asked Romano to be... With a sigh, Antonio made his way back into the dining room with the broken necklace in his un-scorched hand, and gently placed it on the top of the table, before bending down and picking up the pieces that had flown away when it ripped off of his neck, and allowing them to rest beside the cross... that cross that would constantly smell of Romano, no matter how long Antonio wore it...

How... how could Romano lie to him like that? He... he truly was just leading the man on with all of those gestures that other would consider to only come from a true loved one, and he had everyone fooled; even Francis, who constantly chuckled silly things like _Oh~ the little one loves you, mon cher. I can see it in his eyes~_ Such...such foolishness... how could Antonio even believe him... He sighed, shaking his head. He was an idiot... such an idiot to believe Romano when he would say flattering things when he thought the green-eyed man was asleep... that he was beautiful... and that he wished... wished that Antonio would love him back... He glanced down at his hands, noting the faint, chain-like pattern forming along the fingers of his left hand... he would need to properly clean them, and bandage them up to prevent infection... though... right now, he could really use a reason to die. There was just nothing left for him in the world...

He sighed again, returning to the living room... finding not one speck of blood on the floor... as if all traces of Roma were removed. Not even stains remained in the wood... Antonio wondered... if in the morning, all traces of Romano would be gone too... but it was only something he could hope for. Without a second glance, he made his way back up the stairs, to his room... pausing at the door. It still smelled of sweat... and _sex_... and it repulsed Antonio to think of the awful thing he had done, but... he still needed to treat his hand. Grabbing the corner of his blanket, he pulled it off of the bed, into a crumbled heap on the floor, quickly doing the same with the stained sheet underneath. They would have to be _burned_. They were no longer fit to even be considered proper bedding. Hell... this room could be burned along with it, there were plenty of other places Antonio could call his own.

In the shallow light produced by the candle on his bedside table, Antonio treated his wounds, gently wrapping them up before flexing his fingers to make sure if didn't impair their flexibility; though they did hurt a bit, it would have to do. Then... he simply allowed himself to flop down on his mattress after blowing out the candle. He didn't feel like changing... no... he just wanted to sleep... Antonio shifted to his side, clutching to the pillow that was pressed under his head; it still smelled of Romano... and he brought it closer to his body.

He missed the warmth that he produced... the lovely smells that wafted off of him like perfume... the soft cuddles he tried so hard to not let Antonio know about... but they just wouldn't be... not any more... Tears forced their way out from his lids, staining the pillow with their wetness, and only smeared as the rubbed his face into the soft cloth. There was no telling where Romano had run off to... if Antonio would ever see him again... but what did it matter? Romano hated him. He never loved him. And the thought of such awful things tore Antonio's heart to pieces as the pillow smothered his wails... he didn't want those kinds of feelings from Romano... no... _never_. He... he didn't mean any of those harsh words that poured out of his mouth... He loved Roma... but he loved Romano _too_...

Why...

Why did things have to end this way?

* * *

><p><strong>:C I had to actually stop on this chapter a few times... didn't really help that my computer decided to play Glee's version of <em>I want to hold your hand<em> when Antonio was singing to Roma... I lost it at that point... then it played _Happy Ending_ by Mika at the very end.**

**I just felt horrible for writing this chapter :C**

**So, I'm sorry if I made anyone cry. See you again in the next chapter.**

**-Self-Titled Demo.**


	13. Fool's Paradise

**The reviews... they made me happy, despite how many people probably wanted to kill me for Lovino's death...  
><strong>

**Can't really say that I'm happy with this chapter... but it had to be done... I just can't skip to a quick resolution to their angst. As such, after chapter 14, they won't be as boring...at least I hope.**

**And I'm telling you now, in my Romano headcannon, I see him as a guy who does well with children under the age of 5... after that, he just wants to punch them.**

* * *

><p>England really, <em>really<em> didn't want to deal with Spain at the moment… he was still groggy and aching from his short trip into Romano's universe, and he really wanted that image of the Italian brat and the alternate Spain going at it… on what seemed to be some kind of house/hospital bed_ out_ of his mind… Bloody hell, it had been a week and that image still tormented him… even more so when that twit of a nation decided to barge into his home and not leave until he got some answers. Italy had come along with him… though he remained in the corner of the room, merely listening to the demands of the Spanish nation.

"You were there. You saw him. Why did you _not_ bring him back!" the Spaniard growled at the Englishman, his wild eyes furrowed and dangerously leering at him. Without a doubt, that over reactive twat had a grip on his axe below the table, allowing it to scrape against the underside of the table every now and then, as if he wanted to intimidate England into doing his bidding. That poor _ignorant_ fool. Apparently, _this_ Spain didn't remember the thrashing he received from England during the peak of his power. Ah~ and how _wonderful_ it was to have that sniveling twit tremble under his fingertips, but… this buffoon was much too impetuous and reckless to do something like that. And it only made England's headache worse. _This_ was the very reason they begged the humans to never revive the corpse of a broken nation, even _if_ they are receiving a new name; while they may retain the look of their previous body, their mind was _never_ the same as it was before… For the first decades of their lives, the newly created replicas of their old selves would usually just bumble around the earth like some child... but some... some who had something dear they lost as they died... they would go _insane_. Killing everything in their path as they try to regain what they had lost, whether it be land, wealth or even a loved one.

Paranoia…

Schizophrenia...

_Obsession_…

Eventually, there was a possibility that they would return to the way they were before... but the chances were slim to none, and the nation usually died before that could ever happen. There was only _one_ who managed to escape this horrible fate, only because he was a _child_ when he was resurrected... and he was currently one of the sanest of _all_ of the nations, despite his troublesome leaders in the twentieth century.

"Are you listening to me!" Spain growled again, slamming the edge of his axe into the floor with enough force to shake the table above it. Great. Now he would have to repair expensive boarding of the floor as well.

"_Yes_ I heard you, you bloody git." He grumbled back, taking a sip of his tea before placing it in its saucer and casting a bored glare at the fuming brunet.

A snarl made its way from Spain's gritted teeth. "Then why isn't Romano _here_!"

"It's simple really; if you'd actually pay attention and stop ruining my floors, even an idiot such as yourself could figure it out." England replied, grinning as Spain only growled more in irritation; he knew very well that if he attacked the English nation in his own home that it would be an act of war... and that the blond could _easily_ clean his floors with that filthy little face of his. "South Italy was _injured_ when I went to retrieve him. If I had attempted to force him out of the universe in that state, a potentially fatal wound or not, he would've _died_."

Spain crunched his face into a scowl, one lip upturned to reveal his teeth. "How do I know you just didn't leave him there?"

A gruff sigh seethed from England's mouth. "Why would I do that if I know that you'd bitch at me if I _didn't_ bring the spoiled brat back? Besides, I doubt he would readily come back to this world anyway."

"Why? _Why_ wouldn't _Mi Romanito_ come back to this world? Back to _me_?" another growl, accompanied by the dull, grating screech of his nails digging into the top of England's table.

"He's replaced you."

Oh such fury that erupted behind those darkened green eyes. "_**WHAT!**_" he screamed, slamming his axe up with enough ferocity and force that half of the blade stuck out through the other side, ripping a jagged line down the middle of the table that extended down to England's chair on the opposite side. While he would have to replace that priceless heirloom he received from an old king, a smug grin still creaked along his lips. Such a wonder, it was, to see a previous empire become so upset over such a minuscule thing; it made his blood surge with exhilaration as he remembered his own years as a mighty empire. "Who the _**hell**_ thinks they have the right to touch my Romano!"

A bit possessive, wasn't he? Through the corner of his eye, England caught a glimpse of Italy... His face remained blank, disconnected from the current situation as if he really hadn't known anything about his brother's new lover. Maybe he didn't... what would he do if he knew that Romano was now with the Spain of that universe? Would he convince the New Spain to forget about his brother? No... Even _he _couldn't do that. It would probably be best for them not to know. "I didn't see his face, but it seemed to be a rather large man."

"I'll kill that bastard for violating my Romano." Spain growled, jerking his axe loose from the remains of the once beautiful table. "I'll kill him, and then I'll _make_ Romano remember _who_ he is supposed to love, even if it means _breaking_ him." He kicked a few of the pieces away from his feet before shooting a death glare at England. "You'd better get that damn spell working by February twelfth, or I'll have your head."

Have his _head_? Oh, that was simply _amusing_ how he thought he could frighten England. "I'll have it ready in thirty-three days, don't worry, you insufferable twat, but it will be _your_ duty to bring him back."

"So be it."

With one final snort, Spain stomped out of the room, making sure to drag his axe across the floor as he went, creating even more damage in England's home... who only sighed, and bent over to begin the process of cleaning up after the delusional nation. This was just too much noise over that Italian brat. Much too much.

"England?"

He glanced up from his position, meeting Italy's frantic stare and trembling form. The nation... blimey, up close it would be hard for one to recognise him now; he no longer held the baby fat around his youthful face, losing it to gain the more slightly masculine edges that shaped Romano's, along with the slightly darker skin his brother held. His hair also had a darker tone to it, lightly curling on the edges and flowing around the curves of his ears. It was... as if someone took him and Romano, put them in a blender... and _this_ was the outcome... "Yes, what is it, lad?" England questioned, staring straight into those gold flecked chocolate eyes.

"Can... can you make it... so I'll get to Roma... before Spain?" Italy stuttered, nervously wringing his fingers together so much, that England feared that he may pop one out of its socket.

"Why do you want that?" he asked, slightly curious of the Italian's intentions.

"I-I..." he began, shifting his weight back and forth, completely avoiding all eye contact with the Briton. "I_ can't_... let him come back."

England sighed, bringing himself back to a straight position and cringing as his back popped in retaliation, but it he still frowned at the silly things Italy spouted. "It's because of Spain... isn't it?" A nod... well that had to be expected. Italy _was_ probably the only one left on the planet that genuinely cared for his brother, and it would kill him to see Romano in the hands of such a cold-hearted, psychotic nation Spain had become after his resurrection. England prayed that Italy never lost that bleeding heart of his. "Well, do you have a plan?"

Italy nodded once more, though he bit at his lower lip... before releasing it from the hold of his teeth and shifting his eyes back to England. "You said he had a new lover, right?" he gently asked, lowering his voice to a pitch that the blond nearly couldn't hear. "Well... maybe if... if Lovi loves him enough... he'll... he'll accept the proposition I have..."

England snorted. "Should be easy. He was with the alternate Spain after all."

A soft laugh escaped Italy, and his face actually cheered up a few notches than it had been over the past month. "That's... that's fantastic... you think he'll want to... want to stay with him?"

"With the way they were all over each other? I don't think it would be a problem at all. Hell, I doubt we'll even have to check up on the cheeky lad now that he has someone like that. If it wasn't for that Spanish git, I'd just leave him there."

Italy frowned. "But Spain is making us go get him..."

Sighing, England walked over to a different corner of the room housing a small cubby surrounded by well cushioned chairs, and he motioned his fellow nation to join him. "I'll tell you what. We will go to the universe, and bring him back _only_ if he wants to come back. If he doesn't, we'll tie that twit up and come back here without Romano. But... After that, his bond to this universe will be cut due to how long he's been there."

"So he'll..."

"He will be stuck there until he dies."

* * *

><p>Three days drudged by and there wasn't one sound or mention of Romano, and the house… well it certainly wasn't quiet by any means of that word. From the moment Feliciano first woke up, he began to scream for his brother; wailing and blubbering on in incomprehensible sentences, all while fleeing from the two men if they tried to approach him. Neither Arthur nor Antonio had the will to tell him that Lovino was dead... and, if anything, it made the whole process even worse. Feliciano would cry and cry, not understanding why his brother would leave him with such <em>scary<em> people. Even trying to get him to simply eat proved much more of a chore than it would for a normal child; apparently, Lovino taught the young one to not trust _any_ food from strangers... which only made Antonio's life hell when he attempted to feed the child. He would always spit it back out, screaming something about it tasting funny. Clearly, he wasn't accustomed to the spices Antonio used when he cooked, and Feliciano still refused to eat, even when he refrained from using them, save for a tiny bit of salt.

Such as now... Antonio practically begged Feliciano to eat the eggs that he prepared for the child, who only turned his head away with tears streaming down his cheeks, and pushed against Antonio's arm as the older man gently attempted to lower the fork closer to his mouth. It had been a full _day_ since Feliciano had something in his stomach... How was he not crying in _hunger_? Most children would be starving by now and he was already much too thin for his age... but considering his life over the past month, Roma had done a good job at keeping him fed. He _was _healthy, from Berwald's examinations at least, though he was still a bit shorter than other boys his age... and he slept like a rock, consistently falling asleep two hours after noon every day, just as Romano had done when he wasn't busy. "Feliciano, please. You need to eat!" Antonio tried once again, not at all liking the pitiful whine that underlined his words.

"N-no!" he cried, leaping down from his chair before scurrying out of the room. With a gruff sigh, Antonio simply gave up, allowing the utensil to clatter against the plate and he leaned back in his chair. It was like dealing with a stubborn Romano... how in the world did he have the patience for that? Almost constantly, he had the idea of simply forcing the child to eat, but that probably wouldn't help in the long run; there would be no use in having Feliciano even more terrified of him than he already was... and he really didn't like the idea of potentially harming the young child, which would be fairly easy considering how frail the child was.

Antonio only sighed.

It was really starting to make the brunet worry... what if he never got the child to eat? What if Feliciano _died _from the lack of food? A low whine grated at the back of Antonio's throat; all of this was just too frustrating. Perhaps... perhaps everything would've been better if Roma never showed up... and he would've woken up with a warm body beside him instead of the cold space he began to dearly hate... but then Roma _still_ would've died... leaving little Feliciano alone out wherever they were staying... and Antonio didn't want to imagine the poor child bumbling along with no one to properly care for him...

It would've been best if Romano _died_ in his own world.

"YO! Who missed the awesomeness that is me!" A thunderous, abrasive voice rung out from the direction of the living room, instantly jerking Antonio out from his disheartening thoughts. Gilbert? This early in the morning?

"I'm in the dining room, Gil!" Antonio replied with a yell, just not having the energy to move from his chair, nor the will. A soft pitter-pattering echoed from the archway, and within seconds, Ludwig came barrelling into the room, quickly latching himself on Antonio's leg. "Ah~ Ludwig!" he cooed, his mood instantly brightened by the little blond boy snuggling his face into his knee.

"_Onkel Toni_..." he whined, dragging those bright blue eyes up to Antonio, and giving him the most pitiful look he had ever seen in his life. It really just broke his heart, especially as tears began to well up in the corners of his blond eyelashes before he sniffed, throwing his arms up in the air, clinching and releasing his fingers.

"Now, now." Antonio hummed, picking up and allowing the child to rest in his lap. "Big boys don't cry, now do they?" Ludwig sniffed once more, burying his head into the older man's chest, and forcing a gentle laugh from the brunet. "What's got you all upset? This isn't like you."

"It's that Lovino guy you're so hung up on." Gilbert answered for his little brother, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. Antonio frowned, casting his eyes back down at the child in his arms.

"What did he do?" He asked, not at all surprised as his voice came out darker than it should've been... no. It suited the topic _perfectly_. The albino let out an exaggerated sigh before he shuffled over to the chair beside Antonio, and flopped down in it, as he rolled his shoulders back and propped an arm against the table.

"Oh, just being more of a depressing, non-awesome guy than usual." Gilbert sneered, as if it was some kind of joke. So that coward went over to Gilbert's house to hide? Antonio snorted, amused about how weak Romano was that he couldn't even stay by himself and had to run off to one of Antonio's clan members just to survive. And he called _him_ a disgusting human? "Did you see what hurt him? He was limping around and he had bruises all over the left side of his face, back and his throat..."

"He must've fallen after he left." Antonio grumbled, twitching under the sudden, delaminating gaze Gilbert shot him.

"Then what is making him cry so much every night?"

Cry? There wasn't any possibility that liar was crying. It had to all be some kind of ploy to get Gilbert to turn against Antonio, or a way to get the brunet to let up his guard so he could sneak back in and destroy his heart again. But Gilbert, despite being the racial mutt that he was, definably was not an idiot... he wouldn't lie to him; Antonio knew that he probably found a way to listen in to whatever that monster spouted as he faked his sadness, drawing the albino even deeper into his trap and getting him more involved than necessary. "I don't know."

Gilbert scowled, slightly leaning forward to impose his intimidation upon the larger, _stronger_ Lowlander. "I think you do. He kept whimpering your name over, and _over_, and_** over**_, and how he never meant any of it." _Never meant any of it_? So it was true... Romano _never_ loved him at all. "So what? After you two got hitched, did he not like the size of your dick?"

"W-What!" Antonio sputtered, feeling the skin along his cheeks burn with what was probably a vibrant red, and Gilbert allowed a slim grin to creep along his thin lips. "G-Gil! Not in front of your brother!"

"Kesese~ You forget that Luddy doesn't speak much Gilanan, so he probably didn't even understand me, did ya buddy?" Gilbert cackled, his point proven as Ludwig twisted his head around, giving his older brother a questioning stare.

"_Bitte_?" he squeaked, earning a ruffle to his hair in return.

"It's nothing, _mein Bruder."_ The albino cooed before turning his attention back to Antonio. "So." He leaned forward, resting his chin atop his jagged knuckles, all of which had been broken at some point during his life. "What's making your _sweet little wife_ so fucking depressing? It's really throwing a blanket over my awesomeness, you know."

Antonio grimaced as he carefully shifted himself under the child in his lap, so that he could have a more comfortable hold on the little one and so that he could easily hide the dirty looks that would surely upset the tyke. "_Never_ call him my _wife._" He growled, growing even more annoyed at the amused smirk spreading across Gilbert's lips. "I don't want anything to do with that _freak_."

"Kesesese~ you're so funny Toni. It's like yo-" Gilbert chortled out before pausing, taking in the sneer and the absolutely terrifying aura that just seemed to _gush_ from Antonio's acid-green eyes as his jaw dropped, opening and closing while only allowing a odd croak to push past his teeth. "No way... no _fucking _way." A pitiful whine broke out from Ludwig's throat at the harsh vibrations from his elder brother, and the equally unforgiving air that just seemed to surround Antonio. It really wasn't his fault that such an angry feeling persistently encircled him as of late. "Do you not love Lovino anymore...?"

"..." Pain...white-hot pain branded Antonio's heart at the sound of his own silence as his eyes frantically locked on something _other_ than the albino, and Gilbert's stupefied gape really, _really_ didn't help it at all. Antonio had to give him credit for having such a keen eye for small details that normal people would miss... He must've seen Romano's wedding band at some point; whether it have been on his wrist or chucked across the room in a blind fit of rage, Antonio really didn't give a shit but he wasn't willing to part with _his _just yet... No. It had cost _far_ too much money and planning to have it merely thrown away; At least that's what he told himself every night as moonlight lazily glinted off of the golden metal around his wrist and right into his eyes, fabricating an uncomfortable strain in his chest.

"How... _What_ happened that night? Was it really _that_ bad... that it tore you guys apart?" Gilbert...he... he just wouldn't ever, _couldn't_ understand what happened, and in all actuality, Antonio could guarantee that if he attempted to explain it all, his friend would claim that he was blubbering out impractical stories. A soft whine quivered against his stomach, and Antonio's eyes flickered down to the blond mop of hair nuzzling itself into the soft fabric of his button-down. Baby blue eyes peered up at him from under golden tresses, reflecting his image in their glistening spheres. Antonio couldn't stand it; Ludwig was just far too young for such a stressful and depressing topic to pierce his life, and even if he didn't completely understand the older man's words, Antonio still didn't want him to hear.

"Ludwig..." A hand brushed through his soft locks as Antonio whispered to him, slightly bending over to lay a kiss on his forehead, earning a giggle in return. "Can you go into the din while your brother and I chat?" After the most pitiful pout the child could've possibly mustered, Ludwig reluctantly hummed in agreement, sliding off of Antonio's lap with his enormous hands gently aiding until his feet were stable on the floor. He was just so precious, that young child, slowly pattering of in the direction of the living room, throwing blue-eyed glances back at his elders before he finally exited the room. A smile brushed against Antonio's lips; may that beautiful innocence of his never be tainted. But there was still Gilbert to deal with... his best friend, no less, but there were just some days that Antonio didn't want to see the guy...

And today happened to be one of them.

Fierce acidic emeralds met still confused scarlet, sparking the tension into sneers before Gilbert's thin brows furrowed, casting a dim shadow around the pallid skin around his eyes and along the peaks of his pointed cheekbones. "Alright. Spill the beans. Was he too small?" Antonio... He was speechless. He could already feel a headache sharply welling behind his eyes.

"_No_, Gilbert. I swear, not _everything_ revolves around sex." came the sigh out of his mouth, meeting the harsh cackle sputtering from the white-haired man's lungs. How could Gilbert be so insensitive? He _knew_ that there was something that had upset both Antonio _and _Romano, yet... he could only come with the conclusion that Romano's penis had been too small? In actuality, it was quite nice, with its length and gir- why the _hell_ where _those_ thoughts returning to him, at _this_ moment, when he _knew_ Gilbert would be able to see the crimson blush spreading across his cheeks. "Gil..." A jittery growl was given as a warning at the cackling man.

"Fine, fine. It had nothing to do with that." He sighed. "But seriously, man. What the hell suddenly has you two so distressed?" Frowning, Antonio mulled over what he would tell the man. He couldn't just say that his childhood love suddenly returned after eight years... the only ones who actually knew about Lovino _at all_ were Romano, and Arthur... well, and Feliciano, but he didn't know about his brother's fate. So there wasn't any possible way that Gilbert would believe that story. Neither could he tell him about all of the lies that Romano had told them... since most of them revolved around Lovino... What could he say?

Words gathered at the back of his throat, making it sticky and thick with anxiety and perhaps a bit of shame before they flicked off his tongue with sharp breaths. "...We had a fight..." His hands gathered in his lap, rolling his fingers over each other and lips frowning at the difficulty of even mentioning the nightmare that plagued his dreams as much as his sweet Roma's last moments did. "...and I hit him, then he left."

There was a slight frown in Gilbert's typical grin, surely not believing that Antonio would _ever_ hurt Romano. "So... the bruises..."

"He insulted me, I tackled him, and then he made another comment right before I hit him." Antonio's eyes flickered down to the floor... remembering the sensation of those porcelain bones colliding with his knuckles and the horrible whimper that escaped those lips before the fiery words that ripped a fissure in his heart. "He also hit a few of the chairs and the bottom of the table." Gilbert blinked, those frighteningly crimson eyes flickering down to Antonio's bandaged hand.

"Is that why your hand is jacked up, too?" He questioned, waving his fingers at the injured fleshed.

Should he tell him the truth about the necklace? About how he recklessly stuck his hand into a _fire_ to save the accessory... his precious gift from the man he lov-_loathed_ so much. "No... I..." Pausing, he glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers and wincing as his burns crunched against each other. "I... I-"

A loud yelp cut Antonio off, allowing him to secretly thank whatever had saved him from saying something dim-witted and unbelievable, but his stomach still frigidly lurched at the sound, instantly forcing his paternal nature into full force. Both he and Gilbert sprung out of their chairs, each bounding into the living room at full speed and nearly tripping over the other in the process. "What happened? Why did some on- Oh~ that's just _adorable_~" Antonio practically squealed at the sight of the two boys piled all over other behind the couch, with one laughing and giggling and the other completely flustered, trying to quietly get the other boy off of him by sliding his body away... which Feliciano instantly put an end to by splaying his fingers against the dull green fabric of Ludwig's vest. A jarring chuckle came from Gilbert once he saw how utterly _red_ Ludwig's cute little cheeks had become, even more so as Feliciano leaned in closer to inspect the blond's eyes.

"Ah!" the smaller brunet chirped, paying no mind to the sense of personal space and drawing his face even closer to Ludwig, who frankly appeared to be about three seconds away from a heart attack. "I've never seen eyes that colour before!" A hum purred in the back of the child's throat and a toothy beam stretched itself from one of his pert little ears, right to the other one. "They're so pretty, like the sky~" Ludwig squirmed under the child straddling him, his face flushing more and more at the slightest giggle, and every complement that leaped from Feliciano's lips, yet his palms remained tightly pressed against the wooden floor as if he assumed that touching the high spirited boy would only make everything worse. Antonio bit at his lower lip, fighting back the whine rolling around against his teeth and the urge to coddle the two in his arms; Ludwig, he knew, wouldn't mind, he'd enjoy the attention, but Feliciano might scramble away in fright... meaning he would have to spend hours trying to find that panicky little child.

"Heh. You've never seen blue eyes before?" Feliciano's head snapped Gilbert's grating chuckle, trepidation instantly flickering in his chocolate orbs and his smile melted off of his lips. A strange emotion of alarm settled itself into Ludwig's face once Feli's body tensed, and his arms slightly flexed against the blond's chest, ready to leap away at the slightest movement the crimson eyed man made. One of his tiny hands suddenly shot out, catching Feliciano's wrist before he could move.

"D-don't-t be sc-scared." Ludwig murmured in broken Gilanan, attempting to get the brunet's attention away from Gilbert and to himself. "H-he is mein Bruder... he is n-nice..." Feliciano stared back down at the blond, making a small noise at the back of his throat, but in turn, his body did seem to relax, even if it was only a tiny bit.

Perhaps everything would turn out well with the child.

* * *

><p>A lone bird chirped outside the opened plane of glass separating Romano from the world outside, hopping around on the small piece of wood lining the bottom of the window, pecking at the crumbs that Romano had tossed there earlier. Softly smiling, the nation reached for the chaffinch, chuckling under his breath as it pecked at his finger a few times before hopping up on it, happily fluffing its feathers out so it resembled a brownish ball. Deep within the small creature, a sound of contentment purred as it stretched its tiny feet along the girth of the nation's finger, gently kneading its petit claws into his skin in a way that could only be called affectionate. Romano... he would miss this if he ever <em>had<em> to be a human; the ability to seemingly become one with the nature outside... for birds to adore and love him as cats commonly flocked to Greece... and to easily be lost with the voice of the land... to find her cooing him to his dreams as he lay out in her open meadows, under a single tree overhanging a small, gentle stream, listening to the many sounds that she offered him in his time of relaxation.

With a careful touch under the corner of the tiny bird's beak, Romano stroked what would be its cheek if it was human, lightly giggling as its beady eyes closed in content and it leaned its little head into his caresses. Why couldn't humans be this simple to please? Just one little touch and everything would be made out of fucking rainbows for weeks. No. They just had to be the stubborn curly haired bastards that they were, only willing to believe for what they wanted to be true and condemning everyone else who thought otherwise. Just like... just like that asshole he was trying so hard to forget about... but whoever controlled Romano's fate decided to make his days a living hell; whenever his thoughts weren't plagued by the dying image of Lovino...decaying away much the same way Spain would've if he had stayed around to watch... that bastard Antonio drifted into his mind...torturing his heart with that hate-filled glare and the lashings thrown at the Italian... That... that idiot... Claiming that Romano had lied to him, after thinking that he _knew_ the nation so _well_...

And he wasn't even able to figure out the _one_ time he had willingly lied to him.

Well, it was _over_ now, wasn't it? Antonio never loved _him_. He only wanted Lovino... not the nation who had loved him so much... so much that he actually _wanted_ to live with him until he died, even if it meant he had to become a human... to cast away his own kind just to ensure his happiness. That little bird chirped at the painful frown pulling down Romano's lips, scratching at his finger before pecking his nail, yet it did little to calm the emotions bubbling in his stomach and tearing at his eyes... he still would willingly give up his immortality... if it would make Antonio look past that fucking wall be hid behind once he learned that Romano wasn't the one he thought he made love to, and see the love that he craved from the man... and it fucking hurt... to know that _he_ was the reason that Antonio had to bear so much pain. He... he would've traded places with Lovino, to die, if... if he could... if it kept his green-eyed bastard cheerful.

Soon enough, tears freely flowed from his olive eyes, scaring off the bird in the process... that's right... Romano was _alone_ in the world, no matter where he went... doomed to forever be stuck in a sea of loneliness without anyone to rescue him and take him to dry land... With a small thump, Romano allowed his head to lean against the plain of glass, slouching over as cries tore themselves from his throat, even as he attempted to smother them with his hands and bit at their backs hard enough to draw blood. There... there just wasn't any hope for Antonio to ever accept him again... anything short of saving his life wouldn't suffice if he was anything like Spain... and he was exactly like him in so many ways...yet...yet Romano... he _loved_ him in a different way than he did Spain... but he couldn't explain it at all. Why... why did the world have to hate him so?

Off in a distant room, most likely the din judging by the quality of the muffled slam, someone entered Gilbert's home, yet it did little to make Romano move from his spot; he was _much _too content with sulking by one of the windows that didn't open out to the market in front of the house. If it was a robber, so be it. Nothing he could do would make Romano's life worse than it already was.

"Oi Lovino! I brought you someone!"

Great. Just fucking _great_; that idiot brought someone with him wherever he went... most likely Francis judging by how long the man had been gone, trusting the entire home to the Italian... he'd much rather deal with a pissed off Antonio _and_ Spain, than that pervert. "I'm in the kitchen." He replied to the original yell, feeling much too shitty to actually get his ass up and trudge into the living room, so, just to be an ass, he turned so he would be facing the window once more, and stared out of it... faintly admiring the lovely weather that matched so horribly to his mood. Not a second later, the door into the room blasted open, slamming against the wall loud enough to make the Italian cringe from the noise alone.

"L-Lovi!"

That voice...how... how long had it been since he last heard that girlish squeak? Two... three _hundred_ years? His eyes whipped around, instantly laying on the image of a much younger version of his brother... _this _ universe's Feliciano... "Feli..." he faintly whispered, remaining completely still, even as the child launched himself at his older "_brother_", latching onto his leg and hugging it tightly.

"Brother, why did you leave me!" he practically cried, shooting the most miserable pout up towards Romano. "Those people were scary..." Tears leaked from those chocolate eyes flecked with the tiniest bit of gold, and he whimpered into the coarse cloth of Romano's jeans, clutching to it as if his life depended on it.

"Shhh... shhh, don't cry Feli..." the coo suddenly purred from Romano's mouth, but where it came from, he had no earthly clue. It was as if his brotherly side had awakened, and was rearing to actually care for this child as if he truly was his brother... something he secretly always wished he could do to _his_ Feli, but he was always too busy with that potato fucker to show him any decent attention. As smoothly as he body would allow, he slipped down to his knees, cradling the child into his warm, protective arms, and smoothed out Feliciano's ruffled locks, all while laying a small kiss to the side of his head. "I wasn't thinking properly... they did treat you well, didn't they?" Feliciano sniffled, nuzzling his head into the crook of Romano's neck, just as Veneziano always did when he was upset.

"Y-yes... but the really tall one was scary..."

A soft chuckle formed in the back of Romano's throat at the oh so pitiful words his brother spouted. "Who, Antonio?" A nod sufficed as an answer, followed by a pair of noodle-like arms wrapping around his neck. Romano took this opportunity to latch his hands under Feliciano, picking him up off of the floor and embracing him with the sweetest hug his body would allow... which actually surprised the nation. Since when did he _hug_ children? "Did he at least feed you?" Feliciano whined, squirming in Romano's grasp. "Don't tell me he didn't."

"It tasted funny..." _Funny_? Then again, the child was probably used to foods cooked over an open flame out in the middle of a forest... with hardly any spices to make the taste better.

"Well, let's get you something to eat better than that bastard could ever hope to cook."

At least now... maybe he would be able to get some shut-eye, since Feli would more than likely have to share a bed with him... and he welcomed it. After all, he hated not having any sleep for three days in a row...


	14. HT

**It's a rather short chapter... but I guess it will have to do. The next chapter may be around the same length, if not shorter.**

**I also don't like how this chapter came out, and I probably could've done more with it... but I find that sometimes people will feel differently about people when they're not in their presence... hence the lack of angst in this chapter. That, and chapter 12 drained a lot of the angst fuel from me. :C  
><strong>

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><p>Pungent… blissful silence...<p>

It greeted Antonio as his emerald eyes fluttered open at the first sign of the rising sun, instantly drinking in the comfortable morning haze that hovered throughout his dawn stained room. Dust glimmered against the few shafts of light filtering in through the folds of his curtains, and his eyes observed them as they tumbled down his line of vision before gently laying atop his freshly washed sheets. A groan pierced through the silence and its owner shifted his weight to his side, languidly fixing sleep-deprived eyes upon the broken chain lying upon his bedside table. Particles of light shimmered off of the recently cleaned iron, casting its shattered corpse into the heavily dilated pupil of the Ispiahnan, easily earning huff to be tossed in its direction and the shuffling of silk and cotton against dirt soiled flesh as Antonio pushed himself up to a slouch.

His shoulders ached, back throbbed with a dull pain, and his head resented him, pulsating with vexation at the lack of sleep he had acquired over the past few days, but that still didn't make the world just pause for him. No. It continued to move right along and there was still work that had to be done...long, and taxing labour...and while he would rather just take the whole day off than to be troubled by his daily chores, he really didn't have much of a choice, seeing as the horses and cattle didn't particularly admire Arthur... Antonio's bull included. At least the hens didn't absolutely hate the blond.

A glint of gold sparkled in the corner of his eye, drawing his attention to the band around his wrist and a sigh slipped through chapped lips threatening to split unless they acquired the moisture they desired. Dark, blunt fingers brushed over the algid bracelet, not one scratch or flaw rising up to meet the sensitive nerves along the digits, despite all of the tedious work Antonio forced himself into day after day. With an awry, bittersweet smile, the nail of his index finger hooked under the faint crease on the underside of the band, applying a light pressure...before he withdrew his hand from the mark of marriage, allowing his arm to flop on the mattress beside his thigh, just as innumerous times before. Earthy bristles tickled the top of his spine, curling along the collar of his long night shirt as his eyes floated up towards the canopy of his bed, his head resting upon the oak post rising up to support the gilded sheets cascading down the sides, tied up with black cords just before they had the chance to pool on the floor. The air was cold... more so than he ever wanted to become accustomed to.

Gold tinged jade flicked over to the empty space beside Antonio, longing to see a hint of russet and two splotches of aureate set on a canvas of bronze, but they only met the rust of his bed covers. Silk sheets swirled under his finger tips, feeling the bare patch of satin for any type of warmth generated by an absent body...probing for the lost love that wasn't there, like he did every morning... for the past ten days... but before the black melancholic beetles could scurry up his arm and bury themselves under his skin, piercing his heart as they scraped through his veins, Antonio threw his legs over the side of his bed, twitching as his bare feet came into contact with the frigid wooden beams of the floor. Breath, hot and smelling like a new morning, brushed against the back of his tongue with the yawn that escaped from his parted lips, accented by the various pops from his stretching spine and arms.

Antonio haphazardly tugged on the work clothes from the previous day, not caring at all that his rugged, tawny shirt stunk of the barn and that his trousers were stained with dirt, along with other such things he'd rather not think about. Socks, also stained from the melted snow that seeped in through his boots, were slipped over giant blistered and calloused feet that twitched whenever the coarse cloth agitated the tinder areas; work strained boots quickly followed, and with a quick ruffle to hair in dire need of a good cut, Antonio trotted out his room and down the stairs, meeting more silence in the living area. This was once again typical, now that it was only Arthur and himself residing in the home...

A sigh breached the silence as Antonio cut across the room, sauntering straight into the kitchen for anything that could serve as a quick breakfast, but there was a lack of food in their pantry... including tea and coffee... just perfect. Grumbling under his breath, Antonio pivoted around and crossed both the kitchen and dining room, before stepping out the back door, drinking in the sight of the snow swept landscape. Light glittered off the mounds of ice, beckoning Antonio to its frigid arms so it could trip him and suffocate him with its hold... much like Gilbert's hugs when he was particularly pissed at the brunet. A groan rumbled in his throat, silently wondering why he never took the time to buy a proper work jacket... but it really wouldn't matter; most of the day, he would be tending to business inside of the barn, and it was always relatively warm with all of the livestock.

Footprints were imprinted in the alabaster snow as Antonio shuffled his way to the doors of the barn, fishing keys out of his pocket before he arrived, and unlocked the pad chaining the doors together. With a single shove, the doors creaked open to the Ispiahnan, washing heat over his chest and legs. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Bays echoed behind him, greeting him as he smiled at the five bovines, and three horses in their stables, drawing him forward to properly admire each animal. "How are you doing there, Valencia~?" He hummed to the closest horse, grinning and chuckling as the rust coloured equine snorted, twitching her ears and gazing with eager glistening eyes at her owner. With a soft chuckle, Antonio fondly ruffled the short fur along her snout, eventually hugging it when she nuzzled his face and scraped at the ground with one of her hooves. "Yes, yes, I'll get some food for you." Another nose nudged his right arm, followed by a bellowed snort. "Ah! Toledo~ You must be hungry too!"

The charcoal stallion neighed, nodding its head before flicking his eyes towards the barn door, ears eagerly standing alert... a chilly prick stung at Antonio's chest, knowing full well that Toledo was waiting for that certain man to scuttle in through the door any moment... that man who he had grown so attached to over the past month. "He's not coming..." The horse grumbled, scratching at his stable door with the tip of his hoof before shaking its black mane, his muscles twitching under his skin. "I'm sorry, Toledo..." Antonio murmured, gently placing a kiss on the light patch of hair between the animal's eyes and rubbing behind his pointed ears.

After a pat to the stallion and mare's necks, Antonio journeyed deeper into the barn, pausing to greet the bulkier work-horse Tagus and the cattle, then fetched the animals their food, his back aching in retaliation after each heavy load. He even had to pause outside one of the horse's stable, leaning heavily against his pitchfork to rub at the pain stabbing at his spine and shoulders. Valencia nipped at the curls sticking out on the top of his head, brushing her nose against his forehead. "I'm alright... I'm alright." Antonio cooed back to her, tenderly scratching the underside of her jaw before hoisting the meal into her trough, and retreating to the opposite end of the barn; a deep bellow called to him once he reached the last stable.

"I didn't forget you, Cadiz~" Antonio hummed with a grin spreading from ear to ear, hauling a large barrel of fodder onto his shoulder as he carefully slid open the iron gate into the rather spacey enclosure housing a single bull. He approached the animal, bending his knees as he allowed the hay to fall to the ground in front of his pet before ruffling the creature's short, coarse fur, eliciting a pleased grunt from him in return. After gently nudging Antonio's side with his snout, Cadiz began to devour the food set before him, allowing the human to spread his arms across his back and rest his chin upon his spine. So gentle the bull was with the Ispiahnan... probably having something to do with the fact that Antonio hand raised him since he was a calf. It was funny really... no one could approach the beast without him raising all kinds of hell, not even Romano... although he seemed scared to death of the horned bovine, mumbling something about not liking large animals. Hell, it took Antonio about two weeks to convince the man to even ride Tagus...who was probably the most docile horse he would _ever_ meet! Of course, after that... he found that he enjoyed horseback riding, and became rather attached to Toledo.

"Romano..." it was nothing but a whisper but Cadiz snorted at the sound, swishing his tail as he continued to eat his breakfast. Antonio sighed, carefully scratching his nails at his friend's hide as thoughts tumbled and shattered in his mind, yet, he pushed them all away once certain, unwanted feelings pricked at his skin. "What should I do... Cadiz?" Antonio groaned, sighing at the bellow he earned as a reply. He needed to work... to keep his mind occupied and free of his... of his _husband._

Five hours... five _hours_ of sweat inducing, tiring work that required all of his attention. In all honesty, Antonio wanted to work until sunset... but his body would not allow him to do so... not to mention that he still needed to go to town for supplies, both barn and house, since Arthur had to go babysit some black haired kid and his freakish amount of siblings... then again, he could've been using that as an excuse to actually go see that Alfred guy he liked so much. Not that it really mattered; besides, Antonio hadn't left the house since the festival. Sluggishly, he dragged himself back into the house and up the stairs to pull off his clothes, cringing as the cold air bit at his exposed flesh. Winter faded skin met his eyes, fingers gliding over muscles... searching for any bruises or cuts he may have gained over the day, but only flaws he had lived with his entire life were found; the short scar along his clavicle... the pale line stretching across his hip... and many more from years of living in the wilderness... not counting the burn across his fingers, which had reopened every other day or so.

With a sigh, Antonio tugged on some cleaner clothing and returning downstairs, tucking his cross into his pocket before he adorned himself with his patched frock coat. The winter chill greeted him once again, clawing at his face as he quickly made his way down the newly shovelled path and to the barn, his breath forming a heated mist with every exhale. He drew Tagus out of his stable, leading the horse to a small cart and hooking him up to it, gently patting him as he did so. The equine whinnied once winter air met his fur, snorting and shaking his mane in a plead for warmth; Antonio complied, securing a blanket over his back and sides, careful to not allow the fibers to get caught in beams stretching back to the small cart.

Within an hour, they reached the market place and Antonio set out to gather the needed supplies, referring back to his mental list from every store and shop he passed. Wheat... dried meat... jarred vegetables... spices... cloth... anything that the house or barn may have needed, he bought and carefully loaded into the cart, taking extra care not to put too much strain on his horse, actually taking the time to ask Tagus if he was faring well, despite all of the strange looks cast in his direction at the action. He ignored them, grinning as his friend gently nudged him in the chest, impatiently pawing at the stone road with his hooves. "Alright, alright. We can go now." Antonio climbed up into his cart, pausing to make sure everything was secure in the back before commanding Tagus to move forward.

Hooves clattered against the road as he trotted forward, swishing his tail to the side every minute or so, and Antonio took this time to relax, nodding those who greeted him as he passed. Snow still tumbled from the sky, collecting on the patches along his jacket and on the blanket across Tagus' back, creating a strange calm to wash over the area, even as children shouted in the park the two passed. He flicked his eyes over to the expanse of grass and the occasional tree, smiling at the absolute joy the children radiated...even allowing the cart to come to a complete stop as he watched a group kick a leather ball back and forth to each other. Laughter... oh how he loved it... He sighed; somewhat wishing he had children of his own... a large family with three or four sons, perhaps with a daughter among them... but he just couldn't see that happen with his current circumstances.

"Brother! Brother!" the sudden shout captured Antonio's attention, snapping his head over to the tree from which it came... and there was nothing he could do to stop his heart from pounding so ferociously. Feliciano sprinted up to Romano, before sprawling himself all over the sitting man and throwing his arms around his torso, snuggling his face into the tawny coat the older male adorned. A smile... sincere... _happy_ smile formed upon Romano's lips... something that Antonio was never able to make him do... and he whispered to the child, brushing the stray hairs out the young one's face before gently kissing the boy's cheek. Feliciano giggled, snuggling himself deeper into his own thick jacket, and tugging at the scarf around his neck, pulling at Romano's hands in an attempt to get him to join him in the game he was playing. Romano's face scrunched up in a playful scowl, pursing his lips and crinkling his nose at the child believing he was his older brother... but it soon melted into a toothy grin... forcing a cold pang into claw down Antonio's back, boiling in his heart and festering into pure jealousy. Such an open smile that broke out across his husband's lips... and how easily it seemed to appear when he was around the little one. Nothing at all like the constant scowls and sneers that he threw at Antonio. Romano allowed Feliciano to pull him up to his feet, though before the kid could take another step, he scooped him up in his arms, nuzzling his face against the giggling child's.

Antonio frowned. Romano seemed... cheerful... like he didn't even miss his husband at all. The brunet forced his eyes away from the two others, turning them to the horse staring back at him, once again keenly scraping his hoof on the stones below. So, with a soft flick of the reins, Tagus began to move forward, pulling the cart with him, clattering the jars and metal as it creaked over the bricks. Another flick and the horse trotted faster, giving Antonio enough time to glance back at Romano... only to find the man staring at him with wide amber eyes... and his lips moving... forming Antonio's name under his breath. Romano stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his feet as he seemed to be in the beginning stages of making a dash towards Antonio... but the cart was already too far away and only gaining speed.

The leather straps crinkled in his grasp, arms fighting back the urge to stop Tagus... even more so when the wind carried Romano's voice... calling for him... _crying_ for his husband... He didn't dare turn around... he merely wrapped the edges of the reins around a small post directly in front of him, and stuffed his hands in his pockets... faintly registering that his cross wasn't in his pocket anymore. Antonio groaned... feeling warmth and ice claw at his chest... cheer and sorrow dancing across his heart with bladed heels.

And... That night... Antonio was able to sleep for the first time in days... and it was blissful, cradling his mind with the slender fingers belonging to a certain olive eyed beauty.

Heat... scalding and burning heat engulfed Antonio's flesh, sparking off into slithers of ecstasy as his fingers moulded into the flesh they clutched on to so dearly, surely leaving bruises and half-moon imprints from the sheer force he pressed into those soft cheeks, lifting... before harshly tugging back down, growling out a throaty moan from the deepest chambers of his heaving lungs. His toes curled against the hardwood flooring, bracing the weight roughly bouncing in his lap, despite Antonio's legs being as wide as they could possibly stretch, and from the sheer pleasure coursing through his blood like a surging wave; oh how wonderful he was... this man digging his nails into Antonio's back and scalp, moaning and pouring breath all over his naked shoulders and neck with every rise and fall of his weight on Antonio's shaft...with every clinch of his thighs around the brunet's middle, and with every time those petit feet of his dug into the edge of the mattress.

A name, quickly forgotten by the sudden rough rocks that ground his cock even deeper into that delicious heat, slipped past his lips in the midst of harsh gasps and sloppy kisses smacked onto the smaller male's neck, accented by the slapping of skin, and slurred by whispers and wanton moans. The scent of olives and earth engulfed Antonio's nostrils as he buried them in the crook of his lover's neck, dragging his tongue along the flesh and forcing a drawn out moan from his mate.

Sun...sweat... **sex**... he tasted it on his skin, dripping and swirling like honey in vanilla around his tongue, luring each nerve to tingle with pleasure, even as a sharp pain bit into his shoulder. Antonio groaned in bliss, his hips lurching forward with deeper thrusts, _begging_ for more of those luscious bites to his skin... marking him as the man's mate and _lover_. A harsh tug to his hair by nimble fingers forced his head back, exposing his throat, immediately drawing out more moans and gasps as nips and voracious kisses peppered the skin. There was a sudden shift in weight, forcing Antonio onto his back with the other body quickly following, yet those delicious movements failed to stop, and his lover continued to ride his throbbing length with more passion and lust than before. Antonio's name left those kiss-swollen lips between every other breath. So good... oh so, so good the inside of the man felt, with those tugs to his dick between every thrust and with the lustful kisses on his lips. Their tongues battled, teeth clacking against the other, and hands dug into the other's skin, trying to pull him closer and closer with every flutter of their hearts; heat and pleasure alike pooled in the base of Antonio's spine, warming him and sending tingles down to his toes. Pressing a last kiss on the underside of the brunet's jaw, the man pushed himself back to a sitting position, bearing his face to Antonio; olive eyes overflowing with love gazed down at the body below him, tresses of chocolate tinged auburn swayed with each rock of his hips... that wayward curl bobbing as his head was tossed back in ecstasy, his own painfully erect member slapping against Antonio's stomach... coming closer and _closer_ to... to...

Antonio's eyes flared open, instantly taking in the blinding light of the sun streaming in through his open curtains, and feeling the wetness down between his thighs… _oh god_… He snatched up the covers, gaping down at the mess that he would have to clean up after that agonizingly erotic dream. What… what brought on that dream of… of _him_? Antonio groaned, kicking his sheets off of his sweat slicked body and covering his eyes with his clammy hands… this… this was all just so wrong... yet, from the tingle gliding down his spine alone, he _knew_ that the dream would only be one of many spanning over the next two weeks or so. He cursed his bloodline, wishing for once that he was a Highlander or even a Rockstrider, rather than a fucking Lowlander… well, not really. He was rather proud of his lineage, but the yearly issue… he could definably do without… that is… unless Romano… no. That would _never_ happen, except for in his dreams…

So, with another huff, Antonio tugged his shirt over his head, preparing to clean up the mess he had left behind.

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><p>"Come now, <em>mon ami.<em> All if this stress is much too _bad_ for your health~"

Nimble fingers buried themselves into the knots gathered up along those deliciously broad shoulders, lightly caressed by the few curls at the nape of the dark man's neck, but he ignored the affectionate motions, focusing on sharpening his halberd instead. France sighed though his nose, tracing the lips of his lips with his tongue as his sharp blue eyes gazed at the fine specimen before him... oh how he longed for this Spain to be his; such beauty, such strength, such luscious _passion_ that often twitched with the obsession of the one last obstacle to his plan. If only the idiotic humans had followed his instructions step, by step... he wouldn't have to deal with Spain's bothersome love for that Italian brat... He should've just killed the nation instead of asking the Russian and his psychotic sister for aid... but it still didn't explain why soon-to-be lover had returned home in an unexpected rage. For the entire week, the nation had done nothing but stomp around his house, spewing out curses and endlessly scraping that agonizing stone against his beloved axe. "What is troubling you, _Espagne_?" France cooed into Spain's ear before gently kissing the shell and nipping at the delectably dark lobe.

"It's nothing." He snarled back, tightening his grip on the handle, nearly to the point where the Parisian could hear the wood splintering under his grasp. Another sigh, and pale arms wrapped around Spain's shoulders, drawing closer to the chest deeply desiring affection that was currently being focused elsewhere... to a man that would never be able return to this world, due to France's specific instructions to Russia to send him to a universe where it would take far too long to bring him back. Sure, the brat would probably retain his country status, since France couldn't get anywhere close enough to the Italian government to suggest stripping him of his title, but he would never be able to return to this world, which would just have to do.

"Something is bothering you, my love." With gentle hands, France pried the axe from Spain's grasp, tossing it across the room before pushing the Spaniard so his back would be flat against the bed. "It it your little _Lovino_?"

"Do _not_ speak about him, _Francia._" Spain growled in return, throwing the blond off of his body and onto the floor. He snatched his axe off of the wood, rising it high above his head before allowing the blade of slam back into the flooring, right beside France's head... actually nicking his ear in the process. "_No one_ can speak of him... except for _me_." He spat, twisting the halberd out of the wood, before slicing through the floor on the other side of the blond's head. "_No one_ can _look_ at him, except for _me_." Such fury raged behind those handsome emeralds, reminding the Parisian of Spain's younger days... before Romano had become such an important fixture in his life... before he became the compassionate, loving fool that everyone adored, save for _Angleterre _of course.

The blade was once again pried from the expensive flooring, and a foot was shoved into France's chest... most likely cracking a few rips form the impact alone, but the weapon was not impaled into the nation, as he faintly expected. Instead, Spain rammed it into the wall, effectively splitting one of the support beams in half, and splintering two others with the edge of the passing blade. "_NO ONE_" Spain nearly screeched, grabbing France by the hair, and roughly tugging him to his height. "_**No one**__ can __**touch**__ him except for __**me**__._" France thickly swallowed down the fear that surged up his throat and created jitters across his entire body at the sight of such hate filled jade.

_This_ wasn't the Spain that he had banished Romano for the chance of making his own... the Spain that would never harm an _innocent_ bystander when he became enraged... who would _never_ purposely cause damage to his own home... or become so overly possessive of a man who technically didn't even exist anymore...

France _never _should've become so obsessed about the man who would _never_ love him in return.

He fucked up...

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><p><strong>I'm sorry about the boring chapter. Things will hopefully pick back up at the end of the next, and the later chapters. If anything, there <em>might<em> be a proper lemon... if I can figure out where to place it so it won't seem out of place.  
><strong>

**Much love,**

**-Self-Titled Demo**


	15. Colorless Sky

**Another long chapter...**

**Unless I end up babbling on and on about useless stuff, there should only be about 4 or 5 chapters left in this fic. And I apologize for my horrid argument scenes. I don't have much experience with that topic, but I am trying to get better at it.**

**And I also separated the chapter by the speaker, rather than jumps in time, so take note of how long as passed. Overall, this chapter takes place over about six days, leaving seventeen days until Spain comes to get Romano... unless my math is off.  
><strong>

**By the way, what do you guys think Romano should do; go with Antonio or Spain (What you say won't change the ending)**

**Anyway, enjoy~**

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><p>That damn tingle just wouldn't leave Antonio alone.<p>

Always pricking at his spine, sending short spasms of desire to his fingers every so often, all while cushioning his muscles with pillows of aggression and blades of arousal... He hated it... those instincts that were implanted into his brain ever since he was the age of twelve, fully allowing him to breach into the world of manhood, though, he didn't find it as great as his brothers or father did. He _didn't_ live out in the Ispiahnan plains, nor did he have to compete for one of the few females who also wandered those endless stretches of gold tingled grass, so the colossal surge of hostility and engorged libido only exasperated him to no end.

It was utterly useless.

He didn't even _like _women and he was _married_ to a man who didn't even live under the same roof... both of those reasons _alone _made this overly long period occurring every year worthless for the Ispiahnan. But, he would just have to deal with it like he did in the past; meaning working until his fingers bled and then going to bed before any unnecessary thoughts could drift into his mind. At least that was what he _wanted_ to do.

Instead, he found himself heading back to the market every day; locating a secluded area with a view of the majority of the open walk space and simply remained there, sitting at the tiny sheltered table for hours on end. No one bothered him, and he managed to refrain from attracting anyone's attention.

On the first day, the weather was actually clear, allowing the sun to cast a warm glow down on the earth and melt away the top sheet of snow. Once again, children frolicked in the white substance; laughing, playing, enjoying their time with one another in their short-lived time off from school. But Antonio wasn't here for the children, especially not for the next few weeks. Piercing acidic eyes leaped from head to head of the crowd bustling to and from shops, searching for that wayward curl perched upon the chocolate locks that now towered above the mostly blond citizens; scanning for that painfully familiar scowl among the cheerful grins. Francis crossed his line of vision a time or two, accompanying the girl Antonio knew to be his adoptive little sister, but he didn't call out to him. He wasn't there to socialize with his friends, and speaking with them would only draw his attention away from the specific man he came to look for, though not to actually confront. He even questioned himself as of _why_ he was searching for that man, but not once was he able to come up with a proper answer.

Perhaps... it was because after that brief moment he spotted Romano the day before, his heart fluttered with a stifled sense of delight for many hours; a delight that he greatly missed over the period of time he spent away from his husband. But it wasn't like he missed him. No. He just desired someone who could actually hold a conversation with him, since Arthur wasn't exactly a man who loved to chat about gardening or children... or anything for that matter. And he couldn't go speak with Gilbert without the chance of Romano walking into the room, so that threw that idea out the window. Although, maybe if the doe-eyed brunet just sat by the two while they were chatting... maybe_ that_ wouldn't be bad at all.

A sigh escaped through the side of Antonio's mouth, creating a faint pressure against fist pressed teeth and a wispy mist to slip through his lips like smoke. His lids drooped over lethargic eyes, fighting back the burn that stung at them in a desperate attempt to remain attentive of his surroundings. Six hours had passed, and not once had that scowling beauty stomped by his sight; only blonds... and blonds... and the occasional brunet, quickly hidden by even _more_ blonds passed by him, quickly making their way across the park by themselves, or strolling with a friend. Not only that, but the sun was already setting past the tree line to the west, shadows casting their darkened bodies across the peaceful city, drawing out men to light the candles fixed inside lofty post lanterns. Ochre halos flickered atop the blanket of ice, spanning their fingers out to gently brush the buildings with faintly glowing paint, all while twinkling amongst the new breath of snow cascading from the ink blotched sky. Soon enough, several of the citizens retreated to their homes, leaving Antonio alone in the corner he chose many hours before, but he refused to leave just yet. He still hadn't completed his main goal. Yet, his body did not appreciate this at all. Every moment or so, his head would dip down before jerking back up, forcing his lids to flicker, though... they merely slid shut over his eyes, dragging his head down to the table, resting it upon his folded arms.

Faintly, through the shrouded mist of sleep, he felt something warm and soft press against his cheek, directly below the corner of his eye... and his nose caught a minute whiff of olives.

As soon as he registered that the heat upon his cheek had disappeared, his eyes snapped open, finding himself alone. Antonio had no idea how long he had remained asleep, but it couldn't have been long due to the lack of snow on his shoulders. Attempting to squeeze the exhaustion from his eyes, he sat himself up in the chair, yawning and shaking loose the flecks of ice that had nestled their bodies in his hair, allowing a thick blanket to slide off of his shoulders in the process. His brows arched as he stared down at the cloth pooling on the stone blocks below. Cocking his head, Antonio reached down, tucking his fingers around one of its corners before bringing it up to curious eyes. Well, the colour was a bit bland, but the stitching was fairly new, possibly being only a day or so old and it was impossibly soft; radiating the faint aroma of coffee and another scent he would be able to recognise anywhere.

After another quick glance around the area, resulting in a failed attempt to catch sight of Romano, Antonio returned home. That night, as he drifted to sleep for the second time, he clutched the blanket to his chest, drinking in the long missed fragrance that had already disappeared from his own sheets. Dreams of luscious moans and frenzied kisses once again haunted him, but thankfully, he woke up earlier into the dream than before and prevented an unneeded mess.

The second day was just as eventful as the first.

After working the entire morning, Antonio made his way back to Noldoln, perching himself in the same rickety table as the previous day. Snow continued to fall through the night, extending well into the afternoon, forming white sheets obscuring his sight and blanketing him with the bitter substance. He only snuggled himself deeper into his jacket, wrapping his borrowed scarf closer to his neck and grunted, refusing to let a tiny bit of cold scare him away. There weren't any children to watch today, nor were many people scrambling past him in such weather... He sighed, his mind once again thinking about exactly _why_ he was sitting in a dingy old chair, freezing his butt off just for the chance to see someone he was supposed to be angry at.

Antonio frowned, burying his nose into the fabric around his neck and tickling his cheeks with the locks of chocolate that were beginning to curl from the lack of proper cleaning. Was he even irritated at Romano anymore? It still hurt to know that Romano had openly lied to him for so long... but it had crossed his mind a time or two that maybe his husband was just as lost and confused as he was. Someone shouted from across the park, drawing his emerald eyes to their location. It was a man calling for a lady; his wife judging from the glint of metal from around their wrists, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sharing a kiss with the man before taking his hand and walking out of Antonio's sight.

What would he do if he _did_ meet up with Romano one of these days? Would he leave like he did only two days before, or would he stay and talk things over with the man? Without a doubt, there would be unsettled tension between the two, including anything his momentarily altered instincts would flick into their conversations. Romano... he might not even _want_ to talk to his husband, choosing instead to scoff at the taller man and stomp off just as he did whenever he was in a pissy mood; which honestly seemed to be _all_ of the time.

Flecks of snow brushed against the bridge of his nose, and he sneezed, slightly cringing at the jarring scrape of an echo that rebounded into his ear. A groan vibrated in the back of his throat. This weather was just the worst; all of the snow, wind, and terrible temperatures made Antonio want to stay in bed all day, surrounded by a cocoon of warmth and silence, basking in the radiance of another shitty evening from the_ inside_ of his home. But something called to him, _forcing_ him to drag himself to the town and to sit and wait for someone who would probably punch him the moment he opened his mouth to speak. Yet, Antonio found that endearing prospect alone made his heart painfully flutter against his ribs. He was tired of being depressed... but everything that crossed his path as of late only pushed his mind deeper into despair, except for that flash of hazel and bronze engulfing his mind at night. Perhaps _that _was the true reason he bared the cold weather; to escape that miasma of grief that had washed over him since Lovino's death... and to fill the void that had consumed his heart.

Chilled wind brushed along his cheeks, biting and reddening them to a faint rosy hue. Antonio sighed, wrapping his arms around his chest and making a mental note to visit Berwald for an extra layer in his jacket; the first one had lost all of its padding, and the threads were bare, sticking out and ticking his sides if he didn't wear much under it. Poking at the fine threading on the breast of the jacket, Antonio's mind wandered back to the few times that Romano had borrowed his jacket, claiming that it was much warmer than his own, but he knew that wasn't the truth.

As soon as Berwald had returned from his trip to his homeland, Antonio asked him to make a special jacket for Romano, one that was thicker than the frock coat the larger man adorned whenever he ventured out to town. A tiny smile pulled at Antonio's lips as he recalled the incredulous glare Romano gave him when he presented him the coat. He claimed it was ugly, and not at all suited for such a handsome man as himself, yet, the moment he thought that Antonio wasn't watching, he slid his arms though the clothing, adjusted it , then snuggled himself into the cotton and wool layers.

Later, when the two were alone, Romano had gently embraced Antonio from behind, thanking him for the gift.

He missed those small gestures of affection Romano would occasionally give him... The small, meaningless hugs, the slight brush of a hand against his own, a gentle kiss when he thought the larger male was asleep. Would... Would that man actually act like that if he _didn't_ care? Romano never acted like that towards Arthur nor Francis, despite how undoubtedly close the two had become over the past month and a half, and Ludwig didn't count. As much as Romano denied it, Antonio knew he had a soft spot for young children, especially those who truly had and displayed their manners.

Once the sun had set, Antonio only waited a few more moments, scanning the area for that treasured man before he trudged home... with the hair along the back of his neck standing on end in response to the inching sensation of being watched from far away.

He didn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

><p>For too many fucking days, Antonio sat at that grimy table across the park from the old coffee shop Romano watched him from. The place really needed some renovations, and some work done on the constantly creaking roof, but it was still fairly decent considering the era. The Italian sighed, taking another sip from the hot drink swirling in the mug cupped between his hands, providing him with warmth that slithered down his throat and pooled in his stomach. Many times over the hours that idiot stubbornly sat out there, despite the cooling weather, Romano had to force himself to not go and offer to buy him something warm to drink, although when the dumbass fell asleep in the snow, he didn't hesitate to wrap a blanket around his shoulders. He also watched him from the shadows directly behind him until he woke up and returned to his home. How did didn't notice Romano behind him, the Italian would never know.<p>

He knew what that bastard was doing; Spain always did the same exact thing. They were both idiots, Antonio and Spain... refusing to admit their own misery if it meant admitting they were wrong about some stupid belief they had. They wouldn't do something so effortless as think about the infuriating ideas that they based all of their loathing on, no. That was _much_ too simple.

Why did Romano even fall in love with those two bastards... why did he fall in love with _Antonio_?

Romano huffed, shifting uncomfortably in his wicker chair perched next to the largest window in the small coffee shop, peering over the lip of his cup at the man he could barely make out any details of, save for that patched frock coat and the mess of near-black curls on his head. This was what, the _third_ day he sat out in the cold? He did know that it was supposed to be getting worse as the hours passed by, right? He... He wouldn't stay out there if it got worse, would he? Fingers clutched even tighter to his drink. That bastard wasn't making any signs that he was going to move despite all of the snow that continued to fall to the ground, building up on the ice already packed three feet high on the soil.

He shouldn't worry about that idiot. Antonio didn't care about Romano, so why the hell should he care about his wellbeing? But... he still wanted to talk to the man. He scoffed into his glass, slightly disappointed by the lack of liquid inside of the small container and as such, he stood, making his way towards the main counter at the back of the shop. "Another coffee." He bluntly said, digging into his pocket for the proper currency.

The clerk smiled at him. "Ok, sir. Is there anything else you need?"

"No. That's all."

She poured the bitter liquid into Romano cup, still smiling as he flicked his eyes up to her. She was quite a pretty girl, with those stunning blue orbs and short blonde hair, but he couldn't have anything to do with her. Taking the glass from her, he nodded in thanks and leaned against the counter, sipping at the freshly brewed drink. "Snow's picking up, isn't it?" The lady hummed, idly stirring a spoon in some kind of brown powdered mix.

Indeed it was. He could hardly see the buildings across the street through the thick sheets that blanketed the city and his chest clinched at the sight; Antonio... he was _still_ out there in that shit. "D-dammit!" Romano threw down his cup on the countertop, not glancing back to see if it overturned or remained upright; his eyes were glued upon the snow stained windows, frantically scouring for any dark blotches among the bleached wall behind the glass as he dashed for the front door and jerked it open. Instantly, that wall impaled him with frosty spears, sending chills through his core before they reverberated down every single one of his bones and stung at his skin. He forced himself out into the horrid weather, shifting his eyes towards the ground to prevent the ice from stinging them, but he took only a few steps out into the park... before something large stumbled into him.

Romano lost his balance, flailing out his arms in an attempt to straighten himself out, but all he managed to do was get his hand caught in the other man's jacket and pull him down with the Italian as collapsed into the snow. The male's weight crashed on top of Romano's lungs, squeezing out a gasp from the smaller brunet followed by a groan from both men. "W-Watch where you're going asshole!" Romano's fingers dug into the cotton warmth adorned by the other man, trying his best to ignore the fact that their legs were tangled together, and that the human's knee was pressing against his... well... _there_, and it wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world.

Muscles tensed under Romano's touch, and a quivering breath tickled his ear, scalding it with its heat and sending chills down his flesh. That... that scent that washed off of the man. Earth... sweat...

God dammit.

The human shifted his weight, propping himself up onto his hands though he didn't fully lift himself off of the Italian. Emeralds met amber, and those startling green eyes widened as the honeydew irises glared straight back at them, sending him a message that the bastard misinterpreted... as he usually did. "What the fuck are you staring at, bitch?" Antonio said nothing as a reply. Instead, he threw his weight into his calves, jerking back and rising to his feet, all while avoiding eye contact with his husband. Romano huffed. "Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me up?"

Antonio didn't look down at the man, but he still allowed his hand to reach out and hover above Romano. Grumbling under his breath, he took the hand offered to him, vaguely noticing that the bastard had his wrist covered and four of his fingers wrapped up with bandages, and then Antonio tugged him up to his feet. He tried to pull away from the Italian, but Romano wasn't having any of that. Hell no. After fucking _leaving_ after he _knew_ that he had seen him earlier in the week, Romano wasn't going to let that bastard just walk away now, especially not in the beginning stages of a fucking blizzard. His hold upon Antonio's hand never wavered; rather, it tightened if anything, causing the taller male to flick his attention up to Romano.

Not one word was shared between the two as Romano shoved Antonio into the coffee shop and threw him down into the nearest empty chair, silently plopping down beside him. Shallow breaths graced Romano's ear, tensed muscles met his eyes. Romano sighed. It was just like when they first met all over again.

Gold specked amber wandered over to the form sitting beside him; quakes shuddered along Antonio's muscles, quivering under the multiple layers of clothing thrown over his arms and his jaw was tightly set, slightly scrunching up the skin around the corners of his eyes. Romano rose from his chair, casually striding over to the clerk's counter and completely ignoring the tingles burning holes into his back. Damn that bastard, having the gall to only look at his husband when his back was turned. It was infuriating. Just because he wasn't that fucking Lovino that his perfect little world revolved around, he just threw the Italian out of his heart without trying to talk _anything _over. A frown pulled at Romano's lips, though he tried to keep it at bay for the sake of the pretty clerk preparing his drinks.

If... If Antonio didn't love him anymore... there was no point in staying in the city. Romano, unlike the others making the population, wouldn't age, and someone would eventually take notice of that... meaning he couldn't remain in one place for too long, nor could he truly become attached to anyone.

It was just like home all over again; he couldn't become close to any human, due to the secret his boss forced him to maintain, and the other nations weren't exactly fond of him. Besides, all relationships between his fellow nations would change at a minute's notice; lovers would kill each other, and past enemies would become inseparable... it didn't matter how long those feelings lasted, and it didn't matter what the nation themselves desired.

The clerk gently slid the two glasses over to Romano, sweetly smiling as he gave her the appropriate change for the drinks. Wrapping his fingers around the warm mugs, he made his way back over to his husband sitting by the door and carefully placed one in front of him, scowling when Antonio merely glanced at him before turning his head away from the Italian. Romano huffed, sliding himself into the chair beside the man. If that bastard wanted to be this way, then so be it; he could keep up this fucking silent charade too.

Romano sipped at his coffee, allowing his lids to flutter over his eyes and softly brushed his fingers down the sides of the mug, basking in the warmth of his drink and the man to his right. Antonio followed suit, dipping his lips into the cup of hot chocolate that Romano knew he loved so much. Those dazzling emeralds flickered over to him, but the moment his own eyes met Antonio's, they returned to the mug nestled between broad digits. A scoff ruffled the liquid in the Italian's cup. What the hell was his fucking problem? Well, if he thought he could so easily ignore his husband, he needed to get a check on reality. Not one word or noise left Romano's mouth as he nonchalantly scooted closer to Antonio, pressing his side against the brunet's arm and closing the space between their thighs.

Only tensed muscles met Romano's action. Antonio slightly shifted his feet, only to find that Romano followed his every movement, determined to not let the idiot get out of this situation so easily, and when he finally placed one of his hands on the wooden table, Romano gently covered it with his own.

"How the hell did you hurt your fingers?" A small, careful voice breached Romano's lips, matching the gentle strokes to the injured digits before intertwining them between his. No reaction... at all. It was as if he was holding on to a bunch of warm noodles that happened to have bones in them. Did he really not care about his husband anymore? Romano sighed, frowning as he gulped down the rest of his coffee. There really wasn't any point in this shit anymore. "Fine. Don't talk to me." He wrenched his hand away from Antonio, pushing himself from the man and stood, returning the borrowed cup to the owner of the coffee house. Biting back the tears welling up behind his eyes, Romano glared at Antonio as he approached him once more, pausing only to gently kiss the man on the cheek before he slammed the doors of the building open and trudged out into the storm.

He would give the bastard one last chance...

Only one.

The storm didn't let up over the next two days, and by the third, there was just too much snow to get out of the house. As such, Romano spent his time huddled in a cocoon of blankets by the window overlooking the small courtyard behind Gilbert's home, with a small cup of hot tea between his hands and Feliciano in his lap. "Can I go outside?" Little Feli chirped, leaning against the seal with his face pressed against the chilled glass.

"No, it's too cold. You'll get sick." The cup was placed atop a nearby table, and Romano wrapped his arms around the boy's middle, pulling him into his chest.

"But brother~"

Romano chuckled, throwing one of the blankets over his surrogate brother. "No buts, Feliciano." The child stuck out his lower lip, pouting and sighing as Romano ran his fingers through the little one's coarse hair, testing the length against the ball of his thumb. "You need a haircut." Feli squirmed in his lap, trying to tug the blanket closer around his body. "I'll give you one later, okay?" The little lowlander hummed in agreement, tucking his head under Romano's chin and slipping his tiny fingers between his brother's much larger digits, lightly squeezing them.

Birds fluttered around in the snow outside, flapping their wings and flicking the white fluff off of their feathers. Feliciano giggled at two avian in particular, one of them trying to cuddle up to a smaller, duller bird while the other one just wasn't going to have that. It swatted it away, squawking and raising all kinds of hell whenever it drew near, though, when the other birds were not paying any attention, it allowed the vibrant version of itself to snuggle up to it. Feli squeaked, turning huge, glossy chocolate eyes towards Romano, who smiled down at his brother, gently ruffling the child's locks. "Brother, can I go outside, please?"

Oh that look. How pitiful it was, but he couldn't his precious little one get sick. "No, Feli. Wait until its warmer." He pouted once more, turning his attention back out the window. "Tell you what." Romano hummed as he placed a light kiss atop of the child's scalp and gently wrapped his arms around Feliciano's waist. "When it gets warm again, I'll take you out and we can go camping."

"Really!" He chirped, twisting his head back to cast those adorable eyes upon Romano. Ah, how that absolutely ecstatic expression across his face warmed the Italian's heart, forcing a smile to break across his face before he hummed a chuckle under his breath.

"Mmmhmm. We'll go up to the mountains for a week and find one that has a huge waterfall and a hidden enclave. It will be wonderful."

Feliciano cheered, throwing his arms around his brother while in a fit of giggles. "I can't wait!"

Well it seemed that Feliciano loved mountains as much as Veneziano did, and luckily, there was a range only a few miles out to the east that Romano had actually wanted to visit the moment he arrived in this world. So all in all, it really appeased both of them. Besides, Romano wanted to get out of the city for a while. That probably was the only thing he didn't like about living in Gilbert's house.

They remained silent for a bit after that; comfortable in each other's warmth nestled inside the blankets around them with Romano gently humming a tune to his brother. Feliciano tried so hard to stay awake, only amusing the Italian more with every nod of his head and sudden twitch of his body. Gently, Romano brushed away stray hairs away from Feliciano's face. The child suddenly jumped with a squeak, grasping at the brunet's wrist and pulled it away from his cheek. "Brother, when did you get married?" He questioned as he poked at the gold bracelet around Romano's wrist. Brows disappeared behind chocolate bangs. Was this really the first time Feli noticed his bracelet? Then again... this _was_ Feliciano's alternate that he was talking about. Though, at first, he was surprised that the child knew what the band symbolized.

"Not long ago, Feli."

Feliciano turned around in Romano's lap, crossing his legs and leading against his brother's arms once he wrapped them back around his waist. He cocked his head to the side. "Is it the boy you grew up with?"

_Antonio..._ "Yes... he is my husband."

"Why aren't we living with _him_ then, instead of with Gil and Ludi?"

"Because," his voice lodged itself in his throat, stabbing his vocal cords with its claws before it crawled up into his mouth, slicing his skin as it went. "We had a disagreement, and need time away from each other."

Feliciano frowned at the sordid expression stinging at Romano's face before burying his nose into his brother's chest. "You still love him, right?"

"Yes... yes, I still love him more than anything else." Romano's words shattered against his teeth as they left his mouth, and tears leaked from his eyes. He clutched to his little brother, placing another kiss along the child's scalp as he heaved breaths into his lungs before sobbing them back out.

"B-Brother, what's wrong?" Feliciano sniffled, liquid welling up in his eyes as well, though a few drops managed to slip out and slither down his cheek.

"H-He doesn't love_ me_, Feli..."

* * *

><p>Antonio absolutely hated those three days he was stuck inside the house with Arthur. Just thinking about only having <em>him<em> to talk to without being able to take one step out of the home made him want to punch the closest thing to him with a pulse, which thankfully wasn't that unbearable blond anymore. The moment the sky was clear, Antonio bolted out of the house, once again travelling into the city.

Snow covered _everything_ when he arrived; the street, buildings, city park, nothing was spared from the planet's wrath and many patrons were busy clearing the mess out from the fronts of their shops, if they didn't already do so that morning. Children were throwing the snow at each other, some building small bunkers to hide behind while other decided to try to prove their bravery by fighting out in the open. And he could only smile at the life those youngsters exhibited, faintly remembering the first time his home clan experienced snow. Oh how wonderful it was for a taste of extremely rare weather in the Ispiahnan plains, though he really didn't appreciate when his brother decided to bury him under the snow, nearly killing him in the process and then left him under the wall of white. Thankfully, Lovino's clan happened to be nearby, saving him from the icy clutches of hypothermia. The only reason he didn't absolutely hate the white abomination was because Lovino was the one who warmed him up that night, and it was the first time the boy allowed Antonio to hold his hand.

But that alone didn't make him like the winter.

As he was lost in his cherished memories, he found himself outside the coffee shop from three days before. He looked up, noticing the second floor of the building and how it appeared to be fairly empty, save for one silhouette off to the left of the room; perhaps it would be nice up there, not to mention he would have a glorious view of the stunning, snow covered city.

Warm, cinnamon saturated air engulfed him as he slid the door ajar, instantly greeted by the pretty little blond behind the counter. "Ah, you're the man from a few days ago~" she chirped, taking down one of the larger mugs from the metal rack above her head and placing it on the countertop. "What can I do you for?"

A chuckle purred in Antonio's throat, adoring the lady's enthusiasm so early in the morning. "Just some coffee would be nice."

"Anything else for you, dear?"

"Yes, actually. Is there a way to have a seat on the second floor of this building?" The clerk grinned, beginning to prepare Antonio's drink for him.

"Just the stairs to the left, but it's a little colder than down here. You can go ahead and sit; I'll bring your drink up to you when it's finished."

Antonio thanked the woman, and paid her before strolling past the tables to take the stairs to the upper floor. Creaking the door open, a slight chill probed through his jacket and vest, though the sheer amount of windows in the room lit it up perfectly and oh, it had such a _wonderful_ view of the eastern half of the city. Four tables lined the walls of the small, sunlit room, each sporting a small candle on the centre of the wooden tops and a small vase for flowers, though they were empty at the moment, and two chairs were also placed around each. Someone was sitting at the table in the back of the room, closest to the western windows, although he couldn't see who it was due to the large paper he was reading, with his back against the glass.

Humming to himself, Antonio decided to take the table across the room from the man. There was a rustle as he flicked over to the next page, but Antonio wasn't paying him any mind; instead, he turned his attention out the window, drinking in the beautiful arches of the snow drenched buildings, some tapering off into the structure beside them while others merely curved back around into small enclosures that patrons could use to escape unsavoury weather. Clouds of various sizes fluttered in and out of his view, painted a blaring white compared to the subtle blue of the sky. Antonio smiled, somewhat wishing Romano could be there to enjoy the sight with him... but the moment he thought of the man, that smile melted into a frown along with his once cheerful mood.

Why was he so... _gloomy_ over just thinking of his husband? It happened every single time that brunet crossed his mind, and over the past few days, he couldn't help but to wonder _why_ he was still so angry with the man... though, when he actually paused, he found more pain than actual irritation. Constantly, he found himself having an intense _desire_ to see the man, to touch his face, to hold his hand... but when he actually did, he _froze_, having absolutely no idea what he should do. He didn't know how he felt anymore... confusion... sadness... anger... now, it was all one big mess, too blurred together to pick any one emotion out individually. Sighing, he brushed back the cuff of his sleeve, exposing the gold sheen of his marriage band to the sunlight. He still didn't regret asking for Romano's hand in marriage... and it was strange. Not once could he properly explain how he felt about the man, not even when Arthur pestered him about it only a day ago. And when he paused to think back about how he believed that Romano lied to him, he found no actual reasons why he _should_ think that, if it was true what Lovino said about him. If anything... he wanted to properly talk to his husband... to know _his _side of the story.

To know more about _him..._

About the man he had fallen in love with _more _than his childhood sweetheart.

Antonio's breath caught in his throat. _Love_... yes. He still loved that strange olive eyed brunet through all of the confusion and anger that covered that feeling like paint, and as he allowed the side of his head to press against the cold glass of the window, he sighed. "Oh Romano..." The words fell from his mouth like rain, dripping down his lips and into his hands, only them to twitch and fold over each other. "Romano..." Another sigh climbed out of his throat, fogging up the glass as the heat brushed against it. "I want to see you... again..."

The newspaper belonging to the other man in the room crinkled loudly, followed by a snort and a sharp snap in the roof, but Antonio didn't feel like taking a glance at the man; his gaze remained fixed to the small tree outside... anything to counteract the overwhelming whiteness of the world and the heat burning in his throat and chest. He thought of what could possibly happen if he _did_ come across Romano once more... would they be civil with each other, or would those pestering instincts of Antonio's ruin everything? He sighed. No... As long as he kept a good hold on his mind and stayed out of any situation that could possibly turn sexual, those infuriating urges wouldn't be able to take over; after all, he had to spend the last eight years making sure he didn't jump the nearest girl whenever he was in such a state. But now, it shouldn't be as much of a problem... he only had to make sure Romano didn't come under the ruttish fury of a certain Lowlander currently in the midst of what his kind liked to call their _individual mating season..._

Antonio grimaced. What a distasteful thing to call such a horrid period of time. _Mating season... _Bah, and they wondered why so many people often looked down upon his people as nothing more than animals.

"Sir? Your coffee." The voice of the sweet clerk broke Antonio from his thoughts, and his attention cut to the girl.

"Ah~ thank you!" He smiled back in return, making sure to give her the proper amount of silver coins in return for her work before she left the room, leaving Antonio alone with the other man once again. With a soft sigh and a quick blow to the steam snaking from his cup, he took it into his hands, cradling it between his fingers. So warm, it was, radiating such heat into his skin. He sipped at the bitter liquid, humming out a pleasured sigh before taking another, and then another.

Apparently, this irritated the other man. He growled, slamming down his paper and glaring at Antonio with wonderful caramel eyes and furrowing nicely kept eyebrows until they formed ugly wrinkles against sun-kissed skin. Antonio lazily stared back for a moment, still focusing on the warm cup between his fingers and not able to properly tell who was before him... though when it _did_ finally click in his head, he nearly dropped his drink.

"_Romano..._"

"Yeah, it's me, fucker." Romano snarled, knocking his chair back as he sharply rose to his feet and stomped over to the Lowlander, slamming himself down in the chair next to him. "And I'm tired of this shit. I'm not going to let you _avoid_ me anymore."

"Avoid? I was _never_ avoiding yo-"

"_Shut the hell up_." Oh the harsh voice that barked from such a pretty face, matching the absolutely _furious_ glare stabbing at Antonio's flesh. Romano crossed his arms, but remained slightly bent in his husband's direction. "I want a fucking explanation _why_." The glare broke... but his words remained as harsh as ever. "_Why_ did you leave when you fucking _knew_ I saw you that day with Tagus? Do you know how much it _hurt_ for you to leave like that!"

It... It hurt? No... no, that couldn't be true..."Romano, I-"

"I don't want some half-assed shit, Antonio. I want the truth." His voice had softened considerably, though, for some odd reason, these lighter words stung more than the shouts and glares from before.

"I...I don't know why I left."

"You don't?"

"No..."

Romano sighed, running his hand over his face and through his hair. "What kind of bull-shit is that... _I don't know_..." A scoff slipped though his teeth. "Then tell me this..." He slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out a freshly wrought chain necklace with a charred cross dangling from the center, and then carefully placed it on the table with a small clink. "Why did I find this in the park? If I remember correctly, I threw it in the fucking fireplace."

His necklace... that precious gift that Romano had given him the night he accepted Tino's offer to be his apprentice... when he made the decision that he would ask the man's hand in marriage... "It fell out of my pocket..."

"You were a dumbass and put your hand in the fire to get it, didn't you?"

"Yes... I did."

An exhale sifted though Romano's nose, and he stood, unclasping the ends of the chain. The edges of his fingers scraped by the flesh along Antonio's neck as he tenderly brought the ends back together around his husband's neck, closing them before straightening the cross so it would lie perfectly between his collar bones... Though he remained closer than he really should have, allowing Antonio to catch that alluring scent of his. "I fixed it for you. You fucking owe me." Romano stared at him for a moment, prying deep into Antonio's eyes with his own before he frowned, and sat back down into his own chair. "Antonio... please... just _talk_ to me... That's all I ask."

"What is there for me to say?"

"I don't know... _I don't care_... just _anything_, dammit. I'm tired of you ignoring me."

Antonio took a breath, mulling over the words forming in the back of his throat before he sighed, doing all that he could to avoid looking in his husband's eyes. "I've wanted to talk to you for some time now..."

"Look at me when you're talking, bastard."

Emerald eyes flicked up to meet amber, nearly breaking at the desperate glow underlining the dull colour that used to be so vibrant and fiery. "But I've been too... too _afraid._"

Romano scoffed. "Of what? It's not like I'm the most terrifying guy in the city."

"No... It's just... I just really don't know... everything that has happened has just been too confusing, and I... I really just don't know _what_ to think about all of it. So many _things_ have run through my mind... So many _thoughts..._ I don't know what I should be thinking anymore, and that makes me _terrified_, more than anything else."

There was a sigh from the man across from him. "You have questions. Don't you?"

"Yes... I do. There are so many things I need to know, but I don't know if I want to hear them."

"Tell me... during the last few days, when you would sit that lazy ass of yours outside in the cold... what were you doing?"

"I was looking for someone." _I wanted to see you._

"Did you want to see _me_ or _Lovino_?"

Oh... oh that question caught Antonio off guard, forcing his voice to lodge up in his throat and preventing him from spewing out _You, Romano. __**You**__ and only you. _Silence only met Romano's faltering glare, and Antonio watched how it simply _shattered_ into pieces, decomposing into tears that sent quakes down his smaller frame. "I see how it is..." He stood, refusing to look at Antonio as he made his way across the room... pausing in the center of it amidst another loud creak in the ceiling. "I'm leaving this country tomorrow, and I'm leaving Feliciano with the potato bastards." His voice cracked, losing the pleasant rumble that used to accent his words. "Don't you care come looking for me... You'll never be able to find me anyway."

"What? What are you talking ab-"

"Don't give me that _shit_!" Romano screamed, whipping himself around to expose his red splotched face to Antonio as tears gushed down his face. "Don't act as if you fucking _care_! I know the only reason you even _look_ at me is because I look like that fucking cunt you grew up with! I can't believe I was stupid enough to think you actually loved me."

"Roma-"

"Shut up. _Just shut up_. I don't want to hear it." Antonio stood from his chair, carefully making his way over to his husband. "Stop... _stop_! Don't come any closer!" He took another step, stretching out his arms to the man steadily backing away. "Get the hell away!" One more step, and he screamed more. "Bastard! You've already hurt me enough as it is! How hard is it to understand that... that...I...I" his voice died out in his throat as Antonio's arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace he barely attempted to escape from. Instead, Romano clutched onto his husband, sobbing into his shoulder and his neck. "D-Dammit... y-y-you bastard..."

"Roma, I'm sorry for the way I treated you, but I can't apologize for believing that you were lying." Antonio whispered into Romano's ear. "You still haven't told me who you _really_ are or anything about you before you came here. I want to know, so I can get to know the _real_ you... So I can hopefully understand you better."

Romano sniffed, burying his face even deeper into Antonio's shoulder. "My life wasn't something to be happy about, so there is no point in telling you."

Antonio pulled back; cupping Romano's cheeks as he gently smiled down at the man and wiped away the lone tear with the ball of his thumb. The ceiling creaked again, this time, shaking the floor below them. "Don't be silly. Of course there is a point to it."

"You're just saying that."

"No... No, I'm not. I really think it could make things better... and we both want that, right?"

Romano huffed. "I guess bastard..."

Antonio sighed, allowing a much needed smile to stretch out his lips. "I missed you, Romano."

"I didn't miss you, fucker."

The brunet chuckled as he once again embraced Romano, knowing that this would probably be as far as they would get for a good bit of time, but he didn't let it bother him. Sure, there were plenty of things that he wanted to ask his husband; his homeland, family, how he was during their time apart, but right now, all he wanted to do was to hold his precious Romano... and oh how he missed the warmth of the man.

But the sudden jolt up in the ceiling, shaking down dust from the exposed beams completely erased that pleasant feeling that was building up in his stomach. Romano didn't seem to take any notice of it, choosing to snuggle his head even closer into Antonio's neck, but the Ispiahnan couldn't be so oblivious. His eyes shot up to the rafters above, searching for anything that could possibly fall. Then... there was light pouring in from the ceiling along with frigid air. He pushed Romano away from him, hearing the man yelp, before he screamed... and then...

There was nothing.

* * *

><p>"Do you still have those documents I asked for a little under a month ago?"<p>

"Ah, yes sir. We do. When would you like them, and when should we expect 's resignation?"

"I'll come get them this afternoon, and he'll be releasing his title in seventeen days."

"Why then, sir?"

"Don't ask questions, human."

"O-okay...sir."

"You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"No. We haven't sir."

"Good, because you know what happens if you do let it slip, do you not?"

"Y-yes, sir. W-w-we understand."

"Good."

"Oh, and sir... Someone else was trying contact our branch a few weeks ago, shortly after the papers were finished."

"Who?"

"He didn't give his name, be he was the same as you, sir."

"I see. Anyway, I'll see you in a few hours."

"We'll await your arrival, sir."


	16. People Everyday

**Sorry this chapter took so long to get posted. I actually had the entire chapter written out on time last week, but I didn't like how it turned out so I scrapped it and rewrote it from scratch.**

**I am foreseeing only three more chapters before the end, and I already have part of a concept for a new fic (Spamano naturally). The first chapter for that may or may not be posted before the end of Sound Life.**

**And I must also thank Crimsonflowerz for their wonderful art. It is marvelous, and the links are below (Just remove the spaces)  
><strong>

**http:/ alexanderxchan .deviantart .com/ art/ Sound-Life- 264442299 **

**http:/ alexanderxchan .deviantart .com/ art/ Lovino-Ludwig-and-Feliciano- 264444542**

* * *

><p>Antonio was a fucking idiot for pulling that shit, and Romano wanted to beat the living hell out of him for doing something so stupid... the only thing was that the roof of the coffee shop did it for him, leaving his idiotic husband unconscious with his right ulna cracked, two fractured ribs on the left set of bones surrounding his lungs, and a bandage around his head, where the wooden beam basically backhanded him with enough force to leave a bump the size of an egg. His face, thankfully, was able to escape the wrath of the coffee shop's roof, with only one cut along his cheekbone, although his chest was blotched with a horrifying amount of purple and blue bruises, and hundreds of red cuts lined the rest of his body and his back.<p>

And now... he was stuck in one of Berwald's beds, only waking up once the painkillers wore off, though the doctor quickly treated him whenever his eyes would flutter open and his body would convulse in pain. Moments later, Antonio would drift back into sleep's clutches, but not before weakly searching for Romano with his eyes...who was always there, holding his hand every time there was a chance that he would fully return to the conscious world. Antonio... he was such an idiot, throwing away his life so easily... and for what? To protect _Romano_? Those columns would've bounced off of the nation, splintering into smaller pieces...like a few _did_ as he tugged Antonio out from under all of that shit. Only two cuts blemished his skin, one on the edge of his brow and the other on his lip along with a few bruises on the curve of his cheekbone.

Dirty curls of chocolate twisted under his fingers as they combed through Antonio's hair, their owner perched on the side of the bed three days after that horrific incident. He seemed so peaceful; sleeping with his lips slightly parted, air seeping in and out of his mouth. Every now and then, he would shudder... and this time he clinched his fingers around the wool blanket covering his body, and contracted his muscles, hissing breath between his teeth while his brows furrowed in distress. Romano cooed to him with gentle hushes that purred from his lips before he pressed them against the side of that scalding head, shifting down slightly to whisper sweet nothings into his ear; Antonio relaxed, muttering incomprehensible noises under his breath.

A bittersweet smile graced Romano's lips. At least the bastard's health was improving, taking less and less to calm him during those spikes of pain and requiring less of that bitter medicine to reduce the uncomfortable stings that stabbed at his fractured bones. Antonio mumbled slurred words, slightly shifting his head to the side. "Mmm...ano..." Calloused fingers brushed against his sun-kissed cheek, gently tracing the fading bruises blotched around the area along Antonio's cut. The human grinned, leaning into Romano's touch as a hum purred in his throat. "Rmm..no..."

A soft chuckle vibrated against the back of Romano's tongue, soothingly massaging the muscle as it made its way through his lips. "You're in a good mood today, fucker." Antonio sighed at his husband's voice, absent-mindedly shifting his hand so it would be touching the Italian's thigh. Well, this was new. It seemed that he was much more aware of what was around him, and now he was reacting to his environment even while he was asleep. Perhaps his pain had died down... and now he could focus on _other_ things. Romano softly exhaled, bending over to press a soft kiss against his forehead.

"Hmm...Roma..." Antonio groaned when Romano's lips met his skin, turning his head once again, this time so his breath would wash the Italian's throat. _Unintentionally_, or else he would need a new stomach as soon as he woke up... because if he _was_ doing that on purpose, and was only faking, oh- _Oh_ Romano would rip that damn organ right out of his ass and feed it to the nearest stray dog.

Sighing, Antonio shifted his shoulders, digging himself deeper into the warm blankets surrounding him and eliciting a soft huff from his husband. He needed to hurry up and get better so Romano could properly give him a piece of his mind but right now, he was hungry... but Berwald was currently out on a house call, and Tino always went with him... meaning Romano couldn't leave Antonio alone in case he woke up in _pain_. He couldn't bear to think of Antonio suffering _alone_; not after all that had happened.

"Hmmnn..no..."

A smile stretched Romano's lips at the pleasant expression upon his loved one's face; so calm, so content. Yes, the bastard was getting better; either that or the drool dripping from the corner of his mouth proved that he had brain damage or he was high from all of the homemade pain medication. Though, it really didn't matter to the Italian as he wiped away the clear liquid, softly chuckling when Antonio licked his lips before allowing them so slacken once more. Romano took his bastard husband's hand into his own and lightly kissed it. "Hurry up and get better, Antonio."

He sniffled at the sound of his name.

Day had already passed and night born anew when Berwald and Tino returned from their offsite patient, though Antonio remained asleep the entire time. As he usually did, Berwald checked the Lowlander's condition, switching out his bandages and making sure that his splint was still in the correct place while Romano helped Tino with making dinner.

"You don't have to worry, you know." Tino smiled to Romano as he stirred the concoction of vegetables and meat around with a wooden spoon. There was a brief pause in the steady tapping of Romano's knife against the cutting board, but it continued a few moments later at the same speed, stilling the blade every now and then to scrape the chopped carrot into a pile.

"Why is that?" He huffed, wiping off his knife and grabbing some parsley leaves to endure the wrath of his anxiety.

"He's been here with much worse."

Another pause, another scrape of the blade against wood. "And that should make me feel better?"

Tino reached over, taking the carrots that Romano had already chopped and added them into the stew, humming at the wonderful fragrance that tickled at his nose. "You forget that Antonio is a _Lowlander,_ don't you? His race _must_ heal quickly or else face certain death. He'll be fine, I promise you."

A sigh sifted through his lips and he laid down the knife on the edge of the board as Tino retrieved the remaining vegetables and plopped them into the stew. "It's because they scamper around those fields like fucking rabbits with a dog trying to eat them, isn't it?"

Tino covered his mouth, trying to muffle the giggle beating against his teeth while those soft violet eyes grinned at the scowling Italian. "When you put it that way, it sounds as if everything is out to kill them."

"You know I'm right."

"I guess so." He hummed once more, swirling the spoon around the cauldron before lifting a small amount of the broth and bringing it to his lips. Tino frowned, mulling over the flavours in his mouth. "Here." He offered the spoon over to Romano, "Taste this and see if it needs anything else."

The Italian did as he was asked, slightly frowning. "Needs more salt." His fingers wrapped around the small jar holding the white powder, pinching a tiny bit and sprinkling it into the stew before he tasted it once again. Another frown scrunched at the skin of his face. Pepper... it needed more pepper. His eyes flicked up, searching the counter for the jar holding the spice. On the farthest side of the flat surface, the pepper sat among a collection of other spices and a basket filled with a wide assortment of bread. Only a simple pinch of pepper was added to the mix; He tasted it, this time pleased with the flavors rolling over his tongue and offered another tiny sip to his blond friend, who hummed in delight.

"Oh wow, you really know how to make things better with just a tiny bit of salt and pepper!" Tino smiled, stirring the concoction once more before adjusting the heat of the fire raging under the pot, allowing the soup to simmer and release its savory fragrance of lamb.

"I've had a lot of practice." Honestly, it was the truth. Ever since he was a child under Spain's care, he had always wanted to create the perfect dish for the man, even going so far as to ask France and his brother for tips... though it only happened once and was never to be spoken of again. And did he ever get a chance to feed that Spanish idiot? No. Every time he was ever at Romano's house, _he_ always insisted that he do the cooking. Apparently, Spain was a fucking dumb shit who thought Romano didn't have the capability of cooking like his oh so dear brother did.

Well, life sucks and then you die. It was just the cruel reality of the world.

Romano retreated to Antonio's room when Berwald was finished with his examination, instantly grabbing the nearby chair and plopping down in it, noticing how his lovely husband was turned onto his injured side, and no longer wore a bandage around his head. Romano snorted; at least Berwald had enough common sense to try to get the undamaged lung room to expand as far as possible.

As for Antonio himself, he had more colour in his cheeks, if anything. Rose red brushed against that sun-kissed flesh, kneading it between warm, gentle touches of gold flicked from the candle and silver shimmering from the moon. Even in a drug induced slumber, Antonio was such a beautiful man; far more attractive than Romano could ever hope to be. Lazy grumbles rolled under Antonio's tongue, slurring against the back of his teeth as he smothered his left cheek deeper into the mountain of pillows surrounding his body.

A snort huffed itself through a tiny smile that pricked at Romano's face. Loose curls delicately bounced when the tips of his nails brushed against those that were not matted on Antonio's bruise peppered forehead, and the small movement drew a lethargic sigh and grin from the slumbering Ispiahnan. He smacked his lips, completely oblivious of the drool oozing from his mouth. "You're getting the pillow wet, idiot."

His fingers trailed the shell of Antonio's ear, eliciting a shiver from his husband. "Mmm... Roma~" Antonio's mouth slipped shut after a quick lick to his lips. Wrinkles bunched up around the curves of his nose, and then he frowned, running his cheek along the seam of the pillow trying to eat his face as his expression melted back to the peaceful state from before. Brows twitched, painting shadows on the fluttering of emerald eyes, even as they languidly flicked in every such direction, searching and identifying their surroundings through a medicated haze, until they finally came to rest upon the Italian sitting beside them. A smile parted Antonio's lips. "Romano~"

Tears burned at Romano's lids, poring over and dripping down his cheeks before he furiously wiped them away with the back of his hand, scowling as they smeared across his face. It was a shame really. He had honestly run out of tears from crying over this idiot for three days straight, and now only a few could be spared in this moment. "Bastard." He callously sniffled and reached down to tenderly grasp Antonio's hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Chest... hurts..." Antonio managed to wheeze out, blinking a few times before sighing and twitching his fingers.

"You did crack two of your ribs." A noise of understanding grunted in the back of Antonio's throat. Romano squeezed the bulky fingers intertwined with his own, exhaling as those beautiful emeralds continued to gaze at him with the sugar-coated smile that he missed so dearly. "It doesn't hurt too much, does it?"

Antonio gingerly shook his head, wincing once he realized his arm was set into a splint. "You...mad?" A horrid twitch racked his body with each breath and it shimmered down to his fingers, forcing a tighter hold on Romano's fingers.

The brunet sniffed, using his free hand to brush away the stray hairs away from Antonio's cheeks and eyes. "No. I'm not mad." Burning warmth met his lips as they pressed against the side of that injured bastard's head, allowing his scent to waft up his nose. Damn; Antonio needed a bath, and not only would the water clean that dirty skin and hair of his but it would also be soothing for his bruises and aching joints.

"You...hurt?"

The concerned saturated voice startled the Italian. How could he be so worried about Romano when _he_ was the one who could've died if that beam managed to snap his spine? The pressure on the sitting man's hand shifted up his arm, ruffling the sleeve of his shirt as it danced across his shoulder to come to a rest below Romano's jaw and lightly push him back. Brightening jade met misty cresson. Oh, how tired those eyes were, despite the three consecutive days if sleep that the bastard had, and he looked...well... _worried_; an emotion that hadn't graced that face in so long, at least from what Romano could remember. "No..." He managed to choke out, covering those rounded fingers probing at his jaw with his own. "You're the one who got hurt, dammit."

"...did, didn't I?" A grating chuckle rumbled in Antonio's throat but soon after the first breath left his lips, that once joyous ring mutated into a horrid cough. It tore through his lungs with is sweltering talons, racking his muscles with tremulous jerks and lurches. Romano hummed to the hawking man, wiping away the tears squeezed out from those scrunched green eyes and ran his hand down Antonio's back, stopping right below his shoulder blades in order to keep weight off of his wounds. The miserable whooping continued for minute or two before he finally calmed, using some of his decaying energy to catch his breath.

"You're not going to hack up a lung, are you?"

Antonio feebly smiled up at the sound of Romano's voice, wittingly staring into his husband's eyes. "...'v had worse..."

"Idiot... just like _Spain..._" Romano returned Antonio's gaze with a small grin set across his lips before he leaned back down to press them along the crown of russet curls. Humming, Antonio rotated his shoulders deeper into the cocoon of pillows and coiled his fingers around the hem of Romano's shirt, tugging him closer until he slipped out of his chair. He found his weight pressing into the bed beside his husband and a tepid hand stretching it's digits across his thigh, tingling the skin they stroked. "You better get well."

"...will...Sorry...f'r everythin'"

He really was just too sweet for his own good, that idiotic bastard; apologizing and making sure Romano was okay despite the horrible cringes of pain after every flick of his breath. "Don't talk if it hurts, idiot." His lips curled up to bear pearly teeth as Antonio sighed, sliding his hand so it would overlap Romano's, and the sitting man could only exhale through a tiny smile at the gesture. The Italian intertwined his fingers with those under. "Are you hungry?" A nod. "Tell you what; it's still cooking, so why don't we get you a bath first."

Antonio whined, pouting at the thought of having to move and endure the pain of his fractured ribs, but he still released Romano's hand so he could use his arm to push himself up, although his face scrunched up in extreme discomfort. The olive-eyed brunet tucked his fingers into the dip of Antonio's shoulder blades, gently helping him into an upright position and allowed him to lean against his shoulder once his feet were touching the floor. He slurred between shallow gasps. "Thank..s..." For a few minutes, Antonio rested against his husband's side, tilting his head so his ear grazed the top of his shoulder, but soon enough, that silence was broken as a ragged breath was formed into a single word. "Roma..."

"What is it?"

Antonio weakly exhaled, staring up at Romano from the awkward angle of his head. "Who's Spain?" Freezing jolts hammered at the Italian's heart, clinching at his fingers and arms before it bubbled up his throat, forming a sticky wad at the back of his mouth. He really should've seen it coming, and always knew that at some point... that name would slip and Antonio would be there to question it. But now... Now was not the time for such a topic. There wasn't any doubt that Antonio would want to speak as well, and with him in his current condition, it would be much too painful for him to converse with the Italian.

Romano tenderly pushed Antonio off of him, and rose to his feet. "I'll tell you later... when you can speak without feeling like you're going to die." He took a stance before the Ispiahnan, pressing his feet and knees against those of his husband, then leaned over his body to press a light kiss on his bandaged forehead. "I'm going to help you up now, but I need you to push yourself up too. I know it's going to hurt, but it's going to be okay." Antonio nodded to Romano's proposition, pressing his left hand into the mattress as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist with its owner's chin nestled on the Spanish-looking man's shoulder.

"Promise...?" The breath wafted past Romano's ear.

He sighed though his nose and pressed a kiss against his neck. "Yes... Now; Are you ready?" Romano pulled Antonio back as the man pushed up from the bed, grunting in pain with every slight move of his chest despite the Italian's attempt to hoist up the majority of his weight; Knees were used to straighten up the other as Antonio rose to a stand. Another groan breached his lips once he was fully on his feet, but instead of standing on his own, Antonio wrapped his uninjured arm around Romano's shoulder, pulling the man closer as he caught his breath. "Are you okay?" He whispered, stabilizing the brunet by his waist.

"Y-yes."

Romano smiled into Antonio's neck. "Take as long as you need." Only a faint nod acted as a response along with his fingers tightening around the collar of Romano's shirt. This was... nice, if it could be described that way. Idyllic was more of a proper word, if any, and Romano honestly enjoyed the small gesture, even if it was only for the man to level out his breaths. For so long... so damn long, he had to go with that bastard ignoring him... _avoiding_ him, and now... he had to rely on Romano for just about everything, at least until his wounds healed.

The bridge of Antonio's nose brushed against Romano's neck, his breath tickling the flesh as he shallowly inhaled before whispering and burying his forehead into his shoulder. "Thank...you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Only a few more moments passed before Antonio was ready to move on his own, although he seemed a bit _reluctant_ to release the man from his one-armed grip. Romano refused to allow the man to walk without one of his arms across the small of his back, but he didn't seem to bothered by it; he actually smiled when Romano scowled at him for moving away too quickly, and rushed to his side and lightly flicked him in the ear. That idiot... whatever. At least he seemed happy to be getting a bath, a warm one at that. But there still was one other challenge that the two had to face...

Antonio's clothes.

Yes... his _clothes_. With his right arm in a sling, and with him experiencing too much pain, at least for Romano comfortably to allow, whenever he moved his left arm... proving impossible for the man to remove his shirt or his pants, and leaving him to helplessly watch from his spot as Romano prepared his bath, pouring something akin to Epsom salt into the water he took extra care not to allow to become too hot. Every now and then, the Italian would hear him mutter something under his breath and a shift in clothing, but every time he glanced back at that idiot, he would simply be sitting there... staring at Romano until he realized that he also being watched. At that point, a tiny bit of red would poke at his cheeks and he would avert his eyes. It was just... _adorable_ to see what Romano knew to be a very strong and proud man reduced to that of a blushing girl.

"You better not be staring at my ass, bastard."

Oh... how cute his response was. Sputtering and turning a furious red as if it was the first day that they met, even though they were technically _married_. And that _bothered_ the Italian; why was that bastard _still_ acting that way? Sure, Romano _wasn't_ Lovino... but... but why did it really matter? Antonio never mentioned _anything_ to him about his childhood before or after Lovino died; all he ever did was lather Romano adulation and attention, but now... it just wasn't the same.

And Romano missed all of those sweet words, and gentle touches... and kisses... Not once in sixteen days did he receive a... a _kiss_ from his husband; something that he used to take for granted when Antonio was overly affectionate with him.

He sighed, finally pleased with the warmth of the water he swirled his fingers in. His legs popped when he stretched back to his full height, and he made his way over to Antonio, scowling as the man blankly stared at him. "Bastard. Don't move." Romano went to work unbuttoning Antonio's shirt, ignoring the heart fluttering under his fingers as one by one the wooden spheres became unclasped and exposed the bronze skin underneath. His digits trailed up to the thick bands of cloth looped around Antonio's neck, supporting his arm, and untied it, holding Antonio's hand as the cloth fell to the ground. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

He smiled at the Italian, squeezing the hand nestle inside his own. "No."

"Good. Make your arms as straight as possible, and put them by your sides." Antonio obeyed Romano's command, watching him as he made his way behind him, slipped his fingers under the opening of his shirt and gently pulled it over his shoulders and down his back until his body was no longer confined by it. One obstacle done... and one was left.

...

Oh. _This_ was going to be interesting.

And apparently Antonio realized this as well. He fidgeted as Romano turned him around and hooked his fingers into the waist of his trousers and underwear, scowling at the blushing man, yet his eyes... They said something completely different than the bashful glint that his face held.

Perverted bastard.

"Don't act like I haven't seen you naked before, and I'm not taking off _my_ clothes." So with one jerk of his hands, Romano yanked down Antonio's pants to his feet, fighting back a giggle in response the yelp that sprung from the standing man's throat. Lifting one foot at a time by the back of his ankle, Romano slid Antonio's toes out from his pant legs, leaving the man completely bare, save for his necklace, bracelet, and the splint and bandage around his arm. After throwing the clothes into pile, Romano led Antonio over to the heated tub.

He was able to climb over the side without much problem, but as he lowered himself and the water sloshed over his ribs, Antonio cringed, gasping in pain and dug his nails into the flesh of Romano's hand. A kiss was pressed onto the side of Antonio's head in an attempt to calm him and after a few more groans, he relaxed, leaning against the back of the tub and propping his splinted arm up on the edge. "Is it too hot?"

"No...no" A sigh purred from Antonio's lips and he rolled his head back, allowing a faint moan to grace his throat. "Feels good..." Romano smiled; running his fingers through those begrimed curls and hummed when Antonio leaned into his touch as his nails scraped against his scalp.

"When was the last time you washed your hair?"

"..month.."

Well that was just... well it was actually normal for this world, but Romano still held back a grimace from curling his lips. It really just was one of the practices that he would _never_ grow used to ever again and he would be dammed if he'd let Antonio brush those dirty tresses into his nose every time the man hugged him. "I'm going to wash your hair then. Is that okay?"

"Yes." With one last stroke of the flesh behind his ear, Romano rose up to fetch the bath soaps and oils he brought with him the day the coffee shop's roof collapsed, but before he even made it halfway across the room, Antonio's voice hummed in the air. "Thank...you..._darling_."

A smile creased and bent Romano's lips, matching the warm bubbles prodding at his heart. "Idiot..."

Antonio weakly chuckled.

* * *

><p>Twelve days scampered by and Romano remained by Antonio's side each and every minute that he had free time. He would accompany him wherever he went, and even followed him home when Berwald allowed his departure from his house, only stopping by Gilbert's place to pick up his little brother and announce that he was moving back in with Arthur. Of course, Feliciano wasn't too fond of the idea of leaving behind Ludwig and pitched a fit when he learned that he was returning to the "scary people's" house... but once Romano told him that Antonio was his husband and show them their matching bracelets, he calmed down a bit around the man. Eventually, he would even cling to Antonio's leg as he walked, requiring Romano to pry the child off of him when the Ispiahnan was too tired to play with him.<p>

Yet when they were alone... well it wasn't nearly as laidback as it was before Lovino came into the picture, but day after day, it _was_ improving. With every hug and small kiss to the cheek that Romano would give him, Antonio would open up more, trying to repay his actions with gestures of his own; holding his hand, shyly embracing him, humming to him as they lay to fall asleep... this became the routine for the two, slowly trying to achieve what they had before. But... whenever Romano would take it a little further than he normally would, there would always be a strange glimmer behind those glistening emeralds... something _begging_ for him to... well, he didn't really know, but it still unnerved him whenever Antonio would look at him like that; like he was only a few seconds away from jumping the Italian.

But those were only the nights that Romano forced Antonio to hold him, or would lather the larger man in kisses, starting from his fingers until he made it to his neck. Although, not once did their lips ever connect... and bothered Romano.

He chose to not think about it, instead immersing himself with his daily chores or a good book, such as he was doing then. With his right hand intertwined with Antonio's, Romano was sprawled across some of the many pillows in the sun lounge, reading one of the books Arthur owned. Antonio laid beside him, drifting off into a snooze. It was just one of those slow days the two commonly experienced, since Arthur was out and Feliciano was with him, and the two men had nothing productive to do. Resting seemed to be a good alternative, and Romano wouldn't even dare to complain when Antonio suggested that they could laze around in the sun-stained room. Suddenly, Antonio snapped awake, blinking a few times before twisting his head in Romano's direction, earning a scowl in return. "You never told me who Spain was."

Oh... he didn't, and he had promised that he would. Antonio deserved the truth. With a sigh, his snapped his book shut and flipped over so he was laying between Antonio's legs. "I'll answer your question, and any others you have... only on one condition."

Antonio frowned, as if he was actually considering Romano's proposal before smiling and running three of his fingers down the brunet's cheek, allowing them to come to rest on his neck. "What is the condition?"

Romano shifted his weight, pressing his arms on either side of Antonio's torso as he leaned forward, using his chest to push Antonio flat on his back. "_Baciami_." A slightly confused quirk furrowed Antonio's brows over his eyes, his mind frantically trying to translate what Romano whispered to him, although the brunet already told him what it meant months before. He repeated his words, pressing their foreheads together but Antonio still failed to make a move. "_Antonio... Kiss me._" He tensed up under Romano's breath, his eyes widening with every shallow exhale he made. "_Please_."

The tips of Antonio's fingers brushed against the line of Romano's jaw, leaving burning patches of skin in their trails as they made their way down his neck. There was that glint again... Smouldering behind emerald glass like a kindling flame, threatening to melt the thin barrier what he had built up to contain his control. A faint memory flickered across Romano's mind, but it shattered when Antonio leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, lingering for only a moment before sighing and pulling away. It would just have to do, such a small action. But Romano still smiled, thanking Antonio before he leaned back, situating his legs so they would be on both sides of the Spaniard's hips. "So you want you know who Spain is?"

"Yes, please." A hand slithered its way to the small of Romano's back, supporting him so he wouldn't fall backwards.

"Spain..." A sigh fell from Romano's lips, chewing on his tongue as words bubbled in the back of his throat before they clanked against his teeth, one by one, making their way out into the air. "He was my caretaker after my grandfather died... my _boss_ as he often called himself. He raised me, fed me... _held_ me when I cried. He was the _only_ one who was able to put up with my stubbornness... with my fits of anger... to see that I was only a child." Romano exhaled once again, flicking his eyes down to his hands nestled in his lap. "I loved him... _so much_. And when I grew older and gained my independence from him... I still loved him, even more if it was possible. Hell, I even wanted to marry him if our bosses would allow it."

"But wouldn't he be... at least twice your age?"

"My kind age differently than humans. For the past..._years_, we have been around the same physical age." Antonio then remained silent with each word that flicked across his ears, gingerly rubbing Romano's spine with the balls of his fingers. "But we were idiots. So many years passed and neither of us could admit how much we loved each other... until it was too late."

"You mean..."

Romano's eyes returned to Antonio's face, blinking before he sighed and gently brushed the man's blunt jaw line with his fingers. "He died only a little before I met you."

"I-I'm sorry."

"There is nothing for you to be sorry about; it wasn't your fault what happened to him. Besides..." Romano lightly kissed Antonio on the cheek before he sighed, leaning forward to nestle his noise into the side of the Ispiahnan's neck. "We all knew it would eventually happen... he was sick for so long and once he got a little better, he only became worse a few months later. And then the war happened..." He wrapped his arms around Antonio's chest, carefully avoiding pressing too much on his healing ribs. "I couldn't force myself to forget him as much as I wanted to, but... I _had_ to move on, as wrong as I thought it was. He would've wanted me to do that; to be _happy_. I know at first, he wouldn't like it, but after a while he wouldn't care, as long as I was happy... he was such an idiot."

Antonio's hand trailed up Romano's back, lovingly scratching at his shoulders. "We can talk about something else if you want."

"You're the one asking questions."

A contemplating sigh vibrated in Antonio's throat as he racked through the questions in his mind while Romano drunk in the man's scent, enjoying his warmth and the lazy caresses of his fingers against his skin. "So how old are you?"

"Older than you would ever want to be."

"Roma~" Antonio pleaded to his husband, pouting with his lip stuck out like some juvenile. Romano rolled his eyes, knowing that he would only keep asking if he refused to answer.

"Fine. If I was a human, I would be twenty-two."

"When's your birthday?"

Of course he would have to ask such a human question... but he might as well go with what he actually used to celebrate what nations often called their birthdays. As such, he racked his mind for what these humans used for the month of March. "The seventeenth of Maritcia"

Antonio seemed... well, surprised, to be blunt about it. "Aww~ you're almost two years older than me." _Two years_? More like two thousand. "So, is Feli the same in your home universe?"

_Veneziano..._ Why would he want to know that? Romano... he didn't really want Antonio to know about his little brother. Too many times in the past, someone met Veneziano after Romano, and were instantly disgusted with the elder brother for not being exactly like the precious younger... for not being as cute... or fucking _happy_ as he was. But... as far as Romano knew, Antonio would never meet Vene, so it really wouldn't... _shouldn't_ matter. "He's pretty much the same... just bigger and whines more. Not really as courageous as the Feli here." Well it was true; Vene always had a home he could live in, surrounded by people. He almost never had to live out in the wilderness with someone who could hardly take care of him.

"That sounds... just wonderful." Romano frowned at the flatness of Antonio's voice... honestly surprised by the fact that he wasn't jumping out of his skin to meet the guy. "I think I'll like the Feliciano here better."

"Why? _Everyone_ loves him more than me... and he's much cuter and better than everything than I am..." There was his inferiority complex acting up again... but when Antonio pushed him back and forced a kiss onto his lips, it entirely disappeared from his mind.

"Don't ever say that." Antonio frowned at him, pulling him in for another smooch. "There is no possible way _anyone_ could be as handsome as you, and I'm certain that you can dance and create fantastic pieces of jewellery better than he could ever dream of."

Heat swelled up in Romano's heart, fueling the faint red that painted his cheeks with every loud thud of the organ. "But you've never met _my_ Feli-"

"I don't need to." A smile tugged at Antonio's lips. "I know all of this already and..." He leaned in, pressing a chaste peck to Romano's forehead. "I would _never _love your Feliciano more than I love _you_."

Oh...

Oh for so _long_ Romano desired to hear those words, but the way that Antonio whispered them to him... all while gently caressing his cheek with his thumb, ah... it made that warmth in his heart burst, uncoiling its tendrils on every nerve in his body, including the curl perched up on his head. He could already feel the tears prick at his eyes, threatening to overflow and trickle down his burning cheeks but before the dam could break, Romano lurched forward, embracing Antonio with every emotion coursing throughout his body. "Thank you... I love you, Antonio."

The younger man smiled, humming to his husband with every stroke of his hand across his shoulder. They remained in that state for a few minutes, doing nothing but relying on each other for emotional warmth and basking in the other's presence. Antonio was the first to speak. "Do you ever want any children?"

Wasn't this a change in subject? Romano scoffed. "I already have _you_. You're bad enough as it is."

"Not nice, Romano~" He breathily chuckled, carefully shifting his weight so the two men would be laying and facing each other, with Romano resting on Antonio's left arm. "I'm not a child."

"Can't prove it to me, bastard."

Antonio pulled Romano closer, scraping his fingers along the shell of his ear. "I'm taking that as a yes, then."

Romano sighed, shifting his legs so they would be more comfortable before closing his eyes. "Whatever idiot. Change the topic; I don't want to talk about kids."

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't care, bastard."

With a soft chuckle, Antonio fully pressed his body against Romano's, earning a surprised yelp in return. After a small scowl, Romano snuggled his nose into Antonio's neck. "We could take a nap instead." Romano grumbled, tightening his hold on his husband. "So that's a yes?"

"Shut up, and go to sleep."

A smile stretched Antonio's lips. "Do I get a goodnight kiss?"

"This is why you are a child."

* * *

><p>Two days.<p>

Just two more days until that Tea sucking freak's spell would be fully functional, meaning they had to have a stupid pep talk about doing something as simple as retrieving his Lovi. This was ridiculous. Spain was bored out of his mind, so he resorted to glaring at the Briton, grinding his nails into the table as he went on, and on... and on.

When would this ever end?

" ...As I have said before, we will enter the universe, but we cannot enter near a city or town. We must make sure _not_ to run into our alternate selves, but we also will have to search for Romano, meaning there is a high chance that we_ will_ meet them. If we do, we must immediately hide ourselves."

This was all so pointless. Why should Spain care if he met himself? If it would cause that much trouble, then he would just kill the human. Simple as that.

"We will have only an hour to find and retrieve Romano, meani-"

That was more than enough time to find Lovino, and Spain _knew_ that his precious Lovi would flock back to him and away from whoever he was with. Antonio glowered at England; that human... he didn't care if Lovino had interest in him, whoever he or she was. They were going to die, and he would make Lovi watch as he ripped them to shreds. Later, he would punish Lovino for even touching another person. Never again would Lovi betray him.

"We will meet here early in the morn-"

When was this going to be over? Spain flopped back in his chair, crossing his arms as he glared at the other people in the room. North Italy, Germany, England... and himself. The small group formed by England and Italy. Spain had no idea why they needed so many people, especially Germany. Lovino didn't even like the German nation, so it wasn't like he would go with the man unless it was against his will. Not that it mattered. He groaned under his breath, feeling his brows twitch as England continued to drone on.

"This is the most important thing you have to know; it is _imperative_ that no one gets hurt. All of my spells have an automatic cut off for anyone who is wounded, even after the spell has started to charge, mainly to prevent them from dying from the effects of the spell."

Blah, blah, blah.

He didn't care what England was saying. Whether he liked it or not, _someone_ was going to get chopped in half by the end of that day; his axe was long due for a proper bloodbath.

* * *

><p>Antonio... oh he was simply gorgeous when the morning light spread her fingers across the sun kissed skin glowing with health and youth. Romano smiled, gazing down at the slumbering man. Over the past two days, Antonio's affectionate behaviour had doubled; he no longer minded giving his husband hugs and kisses, and Romano really didn't know why this was occurring. If anything, he could only assume it had something to do with him talking about Spain... not that he really minded. Sure, it was only light kisses he received, nothing close to what they were before, but he couldn't complain. He still loved every single one of them.<p>

Not to mention, today was Antonio's special day.

He twitched under the caresses of the sun, squeezing his eyes before groaning and prying his lids open. "Good morning, love." Soft words hummed in Romano's throat and he brushed some of his curls out of his face, cupping the skin to lean forward and press a kiss against his lips.

"You're affectionate today..." His words were slurred as they purred from his mouth. He reached up to Romano, pulling him back down for another peck.

"Happy Birthday, Antonio." A whisper sifted through his teeth, grazing against the Ispiahnan's lips before they connected once more with Romano's. Another groan rumbled in Antonio's throat as Romano pulled away, followed by a feeble smile sent in his husbands direction but it quickly morphed into a grimace, his hand clutching at his chest. "What's wrong?"

Romano helplessly watched as Antonio's breathing became ragged, panic scuttling across his skin. Was it his ribs? Did they get worse over the night after so much progress? That panic turned into absolute fear as Antonio moaned, throwing his head back in pain with clinched teeth, and an arched spine. "Antonio! Antonio, what's wrong!" Through the wall, Romano could hear the muffled wail of Felicano, and pained grunts from Arthur downstairs.

What the hell was going on!


	17. No Beat

From the very first moment Spain took his first step into this different world, he despised everything about it, from the blinding snow to the juvenile pine needles glistening white with frost. Disgusting; every single trait reminding him of his most hated time of the year. Not to mention they were in the middle of a pine forest and right beside what seemed to be a poorly made grave marker, a fresh marker at that, along with the bundled flowers resting at its base. "This is _revolting_." Spain snarled through his teeth, watching how his breath angrily seethed out of his mouth before vanishing into the frigid air around the four nations.

"You better be thankful that Romano wasn't in town, you half-wit." England retorted next to the fuming Spaniard, rolling his eyes and overlapping his arms. "He isn't far from this location, so this greatly lowers our chances of running into humans."

A scoff hacked its way from Spain's throat. "I don't see why we couldn't just kill them if it would cause that much trouble." Really, they were only _humans_; dispensable creatures who only multiplied and destroyed their land for their own greed, not to mention that killing _these_ beasts wouldn't effect Spain in the least when he returned home with his sweet Romano. He grinned, thoroughly amused by how pallid Germany's face became from his words, even taking a few steps away from the Spanish nation.

England, on the other hand, scowled at him while Italy kept to himself, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. "Now look here, Spain. You cannot hurt anyone here, and if you do, I'll send you back _without_ that precious Italian of yours."

He _wouldn't_. Oh, how furiously Spain fumed at the blond, feeling every single one of his muscles tense with a prickling flame already threatening to break down the small amount control he had. "I would _end_ you if you even think about it."

"Come at me, _Nueva España_. I'll break you like I destroyed Spain's Armada."

Spain launched his weight at England, tackling him to the ground and sinking his fist into the man's cheek. There was a sickening crunch as he felt the bone give way under his knuckles, wedging up into the bottom of his eye and as he jerked his hand back in order to deal another blow, something caught him by his wrist, tugging him off of the island nation. "Let me go! I'll crush that bastard!"

"Spain!" As small at the voice was, it caught his attention, drawing his eyes to the tensed Italian clinching his fists and glaring at the Spanish nation in Germany's grasp. Italy huffed, his expression not changing from the absolutely ferocious sneer that was so uncommon on that delicate face. "You need to stop. _Fratello_ won't come with you if you keep acting like that, and all of this would've been a waste." Spain growled under his breath but harshly sighed out in agreement, snatching his hand away from the massive blond. England staggered back onto his feet, rubbing at his cheek in an attempt to ease his bones back into their original places while scowling at Spain and grumbling to himself.

Acid green met toxic emeralds, and Spain snorted. "Fine. I'll be _good_, just for Lovino." Not that he really cared what he was telling the three. It was only a ploy to get to his beloved faster, and if it meant that he had to be "nice", then so be it, but if they did happen to meet the one who was befouling sweet little Lovi... oh... He _would_ split him in two, and his beautiful _Maria_ would always come to his side when called, even_ if_ they were in another universe. Not to mention, she was _dying_ to taste blood after so long.

Spain remained quiet when England began to spout out orders, half listening as he glanced around the area before finally fixing his eyes upon the crudely crafted cross sticking out of the snow. He kneeled before it, gently running his fingers across the stretched out limbs of the marker and along the two letters engraved into the center.

_**L.V.**_

A grimace tugged at his already scowling lips, pondering what they could mean but his attention was snapped away from the grave once England called out his name, grudgingly beckoning him to join the others. It wouldn't be long now. No... Only a few minutes until he could finally hold his sweet Roma again, and a little more before he could _claim_ him as his own; to erase the taint of the disgusting human who _dared_ to touch his precious sweetheart. So, if only to hasten the return home, Spain stuffed his hands into his pockets and tagged behind the trio, keeping his head faced towards the ground. Every now and then, he would glance up to Italy, one time noting a faint glint under his shirt.

Oh... how much he hated that Veneziano looked so much _more_ like his brother since he disappeared; no longer sporting the facade of eternal adolescence and now appearing more adult-like, just as Lovino did, and Spain _despised_ it. There wasn't a day he didn't want to rip that face right off of his skull and tear it into shreds, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't have Lovi distraught about the death of his brother, so he kept his rage under check around people his beloved cared for. Luckily for Spain, there weren't many. But it still didn't restrain him around some people Lovi could care less about; France, for example, had suffered the wrath of the Spanish nation many times over, so much that he couldn't understand why the Parisian insisted on being so close to him or why he _still_ tried to constantly have his hands roaming all over the Spaniard's body.

Not that it really would matter anymore.

"How much further?" Spain groaned out, clutching at whatever was inside of his pocket in an attempt to distract himself from the chilly bites of the snow flecked air and the flurries lodging themselves in the curls of his chocolate hair. A sigh huffed its way from England but he didn't turn around.

"It's only been ten minutes, you twat." He grumbled, staring up at the sky to align himself with the sun, making sure they weren't walking around in circles. "And if you'd actually look around instead of staring at the ground like some kind of child, you'd see that barn up ahead." On cue, Spain's eyes shot up to see that England was correct. A rather large barn sat among the snow up ahead with several animals pawing at the snow behind a fence surrounding the rear of the building. Just a little further than the hulking brown mass was a two story house, positively _English_ in appearance. Several of the animals to their right glanced up at the four nations passing their fence before they returned to their own business, save for a single charcoal coloured horse, who trotted up to the edge of the wooden barrier.

The group paused, each member slightly wondering why the animal was so attentive to Spain; neighing and shaking its head at the green eyed brunet, following his every move even as he scowled at it, telling it to go away. "I think it likes you." England sneered, earning a growl from the Spaniard, but from the corner of his eye, Spain could see how pale Veneziano had become.

"What's your problem?" Spain growled to the Italian, who merely flinched before sighing.

"Let's just get Lovino and go."

With that, the three approached the house, but Spain's glare never left Italy. The half-nation _knew_ something was up, just from the way that the animal was behaving... something that could jeopardize their, _his_, mission. Yet, he still allowed the three others to go ahead of him as they circled around to the front of the house. His fingers twitched once they came to the front door, trembling with excitement, adrenaline, and a flurry of other emotions that he couldn't, nor wanted to name. So close... so very, very close to his darling, but he had to control himself, just for Lovino's sake.

"Now remember." England whispered as Germany took his place next to the door, "We cannot allow anyone to become injured, or the spell won't work. Is that clear?" Both Germany and Italy nodded, but Spain snarled under his breath, cracking his knuckles in the pockets of his pants. "Let's do this as quickly as possible."

That massive fist banged against the door, echoing into the space beyond the intricately designed gateway before reverberating back into Spain's head, jumping around with the anticipation that saturated his entire body. Germany paused, listening for any sound of movement before pounding on the door again. The four could hear grumbling and a muffled voice on the other side, before metallic clicks vibrated in the center of the door and it swung open, revealing a messy haired blond clutching his head. "_Quid vis__!__?_"

So _this_ England spoke Latin… How annoying.

The man didn't even bother to open his eyes to his guests as he leaned against the door, apparently enjoying the coolness of the metal against his skin. Germany stumbled over his words, seemingly not very experienced with the Latin tongue and Italy stepped forward, keeping his expression blank as he spoke. "We want to see Lovino."

"I'm sorry, but he's busy right now. Come back later."

Something unnamable flickered across Veneziano's face and he remained silent as the other England began to slide the door shut. But… it was stopped by the bush-browed nation's foot. "I'm so terribly sorry, but I don't think you understand."

The blond look-alike froze at the sound of the Briton's voice, and delight bubbled in Spain's stomach as the man turned around, his face quivering with fear. His mouth opened, ready to scream something out but Germany stopped him, slinging his weight onto the much smaller man and covering his mouth, leaving him little room to move even as he forced him to a stand. The other three nations followed him, closing the door as they all entered the house.

Well... even though he wasn't very fond of it, Spain still found the home to be rather… nice, reminding him of how his home looked before modern changes were made to it. He glanced around the room, following Italy and England as they moved to the center of the space, right behind the couch in the middle. Only a single candle and the fire blazing in the hearth provided light for the room, glowing against the furniture and the faces of the nations. Muffled grunts were made behind Spain but he chose to ignore them in favor of choosing where he wanted to begin his search for sweet Lovi.

"Well, what now?" Germany asked in English, tightening his grip on the wide-eyed blond, whose stare never left Spain.

"Romano should be here somewhere. It's just a matter of finding him." Came the reply from England, staring up the stairs as if he was judging whether or not he should ascend them but he never had to take even one step up. Directly in front of the group, in the hallway that branched off into multiple rooms, someone gasped but Spain couldn't see who due to Italy blocking his view.

"V-Veneziano?"

That voice… so deep and magnificent… that very same voice that Spain desired to hear for so, _so _goddammed long. His heart fluttered against his ribs, threatening to tear them from his chest from excitement alone but he forced himself to stand beside Germany for now. Eventually, his love would see him and everything would be as it was meant to be.

"Vene… Vene, _Quid__hic agis__?_"

So Lovi spoke Latin now too? This was all just getting too annoying, but Italy didn't seem to mind. He replied to his brother in the same tongue, smiling as he did so. "We came to get you, _fratello._"

"Came… to get _me_?" Why did he sound so… so _fretful_? His voice was shaking as if he was scared to death and Spain's mind could already see the pitiful look that was _surely _plastered on his face. Shouldn't he be _happy_ that he could finally come home? "I-I _can't_ leave, Vene…" And why was he calling his brother Vene? Although he usually acted as if he despised the other male, he would _always_ call him by his _human_ name whenever he spoke directly to him. Spain frowned, tempted to push past Veneziano to talk to Lovino himself.

"Why _can't_ you leave?" England this time, crossing his arms and huffing in displeasure. Yes, why _couldn't_ his one and only love leave this terrible, snow encased hell hole? But Spain frowned, feeling the anger coil at the base of his spine, ready to spring up and latch itself to the tips of his fingers. He _would_ be coming with the four, and if he had to drag him there in chains, then so be it.

Lovi remained silent for a few moments, before he shifted, his bare feet shuffling against the wooden floor before his voice once again echoed throughout the room. "I can't leave _him_… not now… not after everything that has happened." Spain could already feel the burn of fury boil at his fingers, clinching them deep enough into his palm where his blunt nails left half-moons in his calloused flesh but he remained silent. He _would_ make Lovi forget about that other _man_.

"Do you love him?"

He would tear him to shreds if he so much as _looked_ at his precious charge.

"Yes."

Lovino would have to be taught _who_ he belongs to.

"More than _Spain_?"

A pregnant pause grew after England's question, but after a few moments, Lovino answered him with a firm voice lacking any regret or apprehension. "Yes. More than I ever loved Spain."

Such fury erupted from the cracks in Spain's heart, spreading to the rest of his body with such force that it took nearly all of his willpower not to throttle his love right then and there. He _needed_ to keep calm… he _needed_ for Lovino to come back with him, to love_ him_ instead of the disgusting human that courted his precious henchman. England threw a glare into his direction, mouthing words that he didn't even bother to try to read; Spain was far too concentrated on not destroying that false love Lovino held for the despicable human and wringing his neck for it. He _couldn't_ harm his precious Lovi… not if it meant he couldn't come back home.

Spain opened his mouth, carefully choosing his words before he allowed them to roll across his tongue, scraping against his teeth as they flicked out of his mouth and into the chilled air. "You don't love me, Lovi?"

A gasp met his words. "S-Spain?" The Spaniard stepped forward, past Italy to see his beautiful Roma gawking at him. Oh… oh how his favorite charge had _grown_ over the past few months, easily the same height as Russia and a good few inches taller than his former boss… and how _defined_ his previously thin figure had become, obviously from the type of yard work that Spain had always tried to get him to do. That handsome man sputtered, unable to form coherent words as he collapsed to his knees. "This… this _can't_ be. You're _dead_… _**dead**_…"

Spain kneeled down before his love; gingerly cupping his hands around those chiseled cheeks and allowed his lips to curl up into a smile akin to the ones he _always_ only gave Lovino. "I _was_, but I'm here now, my sweet Lovi." Tears swirled up under his lids, welling until they broke, slithering down his face and across Spain's tan fingers.

"N-No… It can't be… n-n-no…" So soft his quivering voice was, hardly loud enough to reach Spain's ears and he wiped away the tears staining Lovino's cheeks, humming to his trembling love.

"Shh…shhh. I've missed you. Come back home, Lovi." He allowed one of his hands to drift down to Lovino's waist, gently prodding the skin with his fingers as the others brushed the stray hairs out of his face. "I love you." A kiss was shared between the two, though Lovi didn't react quite like Spain wanted. He remained unmoving even as the Spaniard applied more pressure onto his lips, easily feeling scalding breath against his cheek… so jittery… so _afraid_… He pulled back; touching his forehead against Lovino's and gazed into those gorgeous hazel eyes that he missed so much. All anger seemed to melt away once as those ambers glimmered from the light of the fireplace and Spain smiled once more, pulling Lovino closer to his body.

"S-Spain…" a mere whisper against his lips but Lovino's hands were brought up to his chest, wedging themselves between their bodies.

"I'm here, my love." Spain kissed him once more, slipping his fingers through those gorgeous locks of hair. So, so wonderful his sweet Roma felt against his skin, even when they were both layered in clothing and if it wasn't for the four other people in the room, he would take the Italian right there on the floor. Additional tears trickled down his face, smearing over Spain's nose and cheeks before dripping off of his chin. He pushed the Spaniard away with a harsh shove, though it failed to unlatch his arm from around his waist.

Spain's lip twitched into a scowl before he quickly morphed it into a weaker frown. "No..no… I.. I can't."

He had to remain calm… he couldn't lose control _now._ "Why not, my sweet tomanito? Don't you want to come home?"

"I _am_ home… _This_ is my home…"

_Remain __**calm**_. "Stop coming up with silly things, Lovi. This _isn't_ your _real_ home."

Roma twitched under the fire building up behind Spain's eyes and the anger clicking behind his words, trying to push the nation further away. "No… I won't leave."

A growl rumbled in Spain's throat. "Lovino, stop playing around. You're coming home."

Scowling, Romano pushed more; even go so far as to grind his nails into the other nation's shoulders. "No, I'm not. You're _not_ my boss anymore, Spain, you can't tell me what to do."

"I'll tell you what to do, and you'll _listen_!" He slammed Romano down onto the ground, bearing his teeth at the man in a wrath sodden scowl.

"The hell I will, you bastard!" Now _there_ was the Romano that Spain had fallen for so long ago, before he had even grown into a man, but those nostalgic thoughts only flickered across the rage that currently swirled around his mind. His work-worn hands inched across Romano's shoulders as he heard a thump and shuffling upstairs. "Dammit Spain, let me go!"

"No!" He growled, shifting his weight so Romano was pinned underneath his body. "Not until you forget about that bastard and come back to _me_!"

More shuffling on the second floor, but Spain still ignored it, still focusing on the writhing Italian below him. "I will _never_!" Romano was yelling now, using all of his strength in an attempt to push the Spaniard off of him. "You're _not _Spain, and I will _never_ leave my husband for _you_!"

Husband…

_**Husband!**_

A ferocious roar tore its way from Spain's lips and his fingers somehow found their way around Romano's throat, pressing and squeezing at his airway, digging his nails into the flesh. Choked gasps leaked from Romano's mouth, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the man to stop, not even as his face reddened and his legs writhed in pain. "I'll teach you who you're supposed to _love_!" He screeched, ignoring the yells and pleas shouting behind him, hands grasping at his back in an attempt to pull him off.

"You _git_! If you hurt him we-"

"-et go of my _fratello_, you mo-"

"_Spanien! _You must sto-"

He ignored them all. The rage was too great for him to stop; Romano had to be taught a lesson, _who_ he was going to love, whether he liked it or not. He even ignored how Romano's eyes flicked up to the staircase, and the small squeak that escaped his lips. "..._tonio...elp...me..._"

Something large grabbed Spain's shoulder but before he could react, he was in the air, thrown back by that pure, unrestrained strength. He hit the ground with a groan, Romano's coughs ringing in his ears and they were followed by soft whispers and choked tears. Forcing himself to a proper sitting position, Spain glared at the man who had thrown him back a few good feet and was currently coddling Romano in his arms, cooing to him with his back turned to the nation. He was, well, _huge_ to be blunt but something about him made rage bubble up in Spain's stomach, even as Romano clutched to the man and shot a scowl at his former boss.

England reached down for the Spaniard. "Come. He doesn't want to return."

"No…" he growled out, sneering at the two men only a few feet away. "He will, even if I have to break him." Spain rose to his feet, cracks and pops echoing from his joints as he straightened them out and smacked away the blond's hand.

"Spain, please. Just leave him alone." Italy pleaded to the Spanish nation, begging him with his hands together as if he was praying but he ignored him just as he did with the Briton.

"_Spain?_"

That voice… he _knew_ that voice, but it couldn't be…

Both Romano and the other man stood, with the Italian holding the taller male's hand within his own as he turned, bearing that mirror imaged face to the Iberian. "So _you're_ Spain?" Those eyes… that voice… everything about him, save for his massive height, was the same as the Spaniard, down to the particular way his hair curled to the right. "Romano never told me that you were my alternate."

Spain snarled but a twisted grin still managed to warp his lips. Oh, this foolish mortal was so confident, even with that broken arm of his and excitement pooled in the Spaniard's mouth; perhaps that imbecile would be able to fight, providing Spain with the adrenaline that he craved so dearly. Then… _Then_ Roma would be able to see that only his boss could protect him. "What does that have to do with anything, _human_?"

The snarky bastard smirked, taking a step forward so he was slightly ahead of Romano, holding a protective aura around him and lathered on his acidic green eyes. "Well, just from the way he spoke so fondly of you, I imagined you to be a much nicer man. I see that I was wrong."

"It doesn't matter what you thought, you disgusting mortal." Spain's fingers twitched with delight, _knowing_ that they could finally taste blood after so long. "Romano's coming back with us, so you might as well forget about him."

"I think _you're_ the one who needs to forget about him."

"Antonio, please. Don't do this. He'll destroy you." Romano pleaded with the other man, tugging at his hand in an attempt to pull him into another room as if it would really stop Spain from killing him.

"I'll be ok, Roma." Antonio replied, lightly kissing Romano on the lips. "I won't let him take you."

Spain twitched at the sight, snarling and grinding together his teeth even as that horrid creature twisted his head back into his direction, still smiling as if he even had a _chance_ at harming the Spaniard. He was the one; that dirty _human_ who destroyed the purity of Romano, and he would _perish_ for his crime. Rage seethed up through Spain's throat, staining the walls of his skin in varnishes of pure fury and hammered his muscles in preparation for the sweet taste of a mortal's death. "I'll rip you it shreds for polluting my Roma!"

"Spain, no! You agreed you wouldn't do this!" Veneziano cried out to the fuming nation, grabbing his wrist and trying to pull him back, but his efforts were in vain. He snatched his arm out of his grasp, snarling at the Italian.

"I _lied_."

Antonio seemed un-phased by his words, merely shrugging them off and allowing his grin to stretch further along those revolting lips. "Come at me, then. You don't look so tough."

Only a growl met the human's remark as his fingers tingled with that neglected sensation of his adored _Maria _answering his call. "This will be your end, you disgusting whelp." With a simple flick of his wrist, _Maria_ materialized in his hand and easily cleared the space between the two, although it was only enough to leave a small nick on Antonio's nose before she came to rest by her master's side. He pushed Romano back, nearly into another room against his apprehensive cries and tugs to his unbroken arm.

Before Spain could shift the weight resting in the palm of his hand, two bodies tackled him, pinning him to the ground with their mass and their hands. "That's _enough_, Spain." He could hear England growling in his ear, mashing his face into the floor with those tea-stained fingers. "We told you to behave yourself, and what do you do? You try to kill your alternate because he loves Romano. The _real_ Spain would've been happy that he found someone who loved him as much as _he_ did."

"_Shut up_!" Spain screamed, managing to push the two off of him for a moment before they slammed back down on him, pinning his arms to his sides. He switched his attention up to Romano, pleading at him with his eyes and his words. "Roma, Roma please. They're hurting me!"

"Don't listen to him Lovino." Veneziano's voice echoed over the grunts clawing from Spain's throat, oddly calm and commanding for the usually jittery man. And poor Roma, his face scrunched up in pain and indecision, pressing his hands to his lips in an attempt to quell the tears pricking at his eyes; he really just didn't seem to know what to do.

"Lovi, please! Please… _I love you_."

Liquid leaked out of his eyes, dripping down his cheeks and soiling his hands as he shook his head, backing up from the other nations and closer to that despicable human. "N-No…no." Antonio wrapped his arms around Romano waist, protectively pulling him closer while his gaze never left the nation on the floor, glaring at him with his muscles still ready to lash out if he dared to harm him or his husband. "Just… just leave."

No. No! Roma wouldn't leave him. Spain wouldn't let him. Not for a human, not even if it was his alternate… _Never_…_**Never**_!

Spain threw his weight back, forcing the other nations off of his back before he lunged forward with _Maria_ in his grasp, slamming her un-bladed edge into that human's stomach and prying him from his dear Roma. He grabbed Romano, tugging him into the room with the door leading back outside before _Maria_ smashed it open with her blade, allowing Spain to drag the struggling nation into the snow by his wrist. "Let me go!"

"_Shut up._" He tugged harder, nearly making Romano trip in the process. "You're coming back home."

"Then why did you leave England, dumbass? Isn't he your ticket back?"

They reached the tree line despite Romano's thrashing, doing everything he could to try to break free from Spain's grip. He smirked, slashing a nearby tree with his blade. "I have my reasons." From there, Romano refrained from speaking to the elder nation, choosing to use his energy to fight Spain's pull but he couldn't unlatch those fingers from his wrist. Deeper and deeper they traveled into the forest, eventually to the point where Spain became lost even when he used the sun for direction yet he still trudged forward until he found a decent sized clearing, throwing Romano down on the nearest overturned log.

"What the hell are you doing, bastard!" Romano's screech echoed out into forest, scaring away a few birds but Spain scowled at the grating voice coming out of the nation's throat. He slammed _Maria's_ blade down, narrowly missing Romano's thigh. He grinned, pleased by the yelp his love produced and the terrified gleam in his eyes. Oh, how it made his blood boil with pleasure.

"Now, you listen here," He hovered over Romano, pressing his fingers into his supple waist as he brushed his nose against that tear stained cheek. "I love you, and I expect _you _to love me. Do you understand?" Pulling Romano closer, he pressed their lips together against the Italian's struggling. His squirming only fueled the embers churning in his chest, allowing a growl to purr in his throat as he pushed Romano back, pressing their bodies together in exhilaration and lust. So beautiful he was, writhing under Spain's hands, just like he imagined for so, so long.

He bit at those candy lips, and Romano groaned out tears, furiously trying to push the man off of him. "S-Spain, dammit. Stop… I don't want this…"

A growl snarled from his throat, digging his nails deeper into his flesh. "I wasn't asking." He was powerless under his ex-boss' touch, weeping and struggling so hard to get away, surely assuming that he was going to _rape_ him in this cold, desolate forest but he was wrong. No, he would_ never_ harm his precious Roma in such a way, but he _would_ get a response from him one way or another. That husband of his would be coming for him, without a doubt, and Spain was determined to make him see who Romano belonged to; who he truly loved for over _four hundred_ years.

Eventually, Spain had to pin Romano's arms above his head to keep him from pushing him back, but he still used his legs, trying to hook his foot around the Spaniard's calve to make him crumble under his own weight. All of his attempts failed. Spain only pressed harder, forcing Romano's mouth open as he continued ravishing the man's lips with his own and he moaned once the taste of that sweet nation swirled around his tongue. Olives kissed with the salt of the sun and ocean; magnificent.

But it wasn't long before he heard the crunching of snow and twigs under a massive weight, which surely was dragging some kind of stick behind them… a _heavy_ one at that. "_Hey_!" Oh how that roar bellowed throughout the forest as if Spain had shouted it himself, and he smirked into Romano's mouth, pushing deeper until he was earned what resembled a moan from the younger nation. "You bastard, _get off of him_!"

Simply delicious, how easily the human's voice broke once he heard that sound come from Romano, clearly not able to tell the difference between a genuine moan and a fake. Spain pulled his head back from Romano, licking his lips as he smirked at the foolish human who fell into his trap, standing there like some kind of American comic hero, with his brows all furrowed and uninjured fist clinched so tightly around that pathetic excuse for a weapon. Such easy pickings he would be, but it would have to do for _Maria's_ thirst. "You should've stayed in that house, _boy_."

With a single flick of his wrist, the blade of his axe sliced though the rest of the log as he gently pushed himself off of Romano, watching how the human shuttered under the pure might of the Spanish Empire. "Antonio you idiot!" The human jerked at the sound of his name erupting from the Italian. "_**RUN!**_" Oh, but it was far, _far_ too late for the human. _Maria_ was already hissing through the air, screaming for the taste of the mortal's blood with Spain's brute strength as the driving force behind her attack. Antonio managed to duck out of the way in time, but just barely. She sliced though the topmost curls of his hair as he sunk down into the earth and used his legs to knock Spain off balance for only a moment.

The Spaniard rolled back, lifting himself back up with his axe's blade before lurching forward again, holding the weapon behind him before he came to the optimal distance, swinging the blade low and jerking it up as Antonio moved to dodge it, only to have that stick knocked out of his hands.

He tumbled to the ground, scrambling back onto his feet once Spain twirled _Maria _in his palm and cleanly sliced through the tree. So exhilarating to have prey that could actually escape the wrath of his blade, but he was growing bored with this human, and even a bit annoyed that he didn't strike back.

"What's wrong? Are you afraid to attack?"

"Shut up!"

Antonio lunged at him, grabbing a hold around his waist and bringing him to the ground, but with a simple transfer of weight, Spain rolled back far enough to keep the human's movement alive before he used the man's massive bulk against him; he kicked the body off of him and leaped up with a flip, dragging his blade across the snow sodden earth. Excitement tingled at his fingers and a sneering grin stretched his lips once he noticed a trickle of blood slithering down his blade; though it was small, a delicate slice to the human's ankle bleed out into the snow, staining it red with his life source.

Crimson… such a gorgeous colour. He wanted to see more, to paint the trees with the foolish human's blood, forever staining them with the dye of purest love and loyalty, and how beautifully it would contrast with the pure white snow covering the black earth. Splendid, reminding him of his glory days when _no one_ would dare to defy him.

Antonio clambered back up to his feet, hissing in pain from his wound but his glare failed to waver, eventually morphing into a wicked smirk. "Is that all you got?" The human launched his weight at the nation, ducking the slice _Maria_ made through the air and kicked Spain's feet out from under him. With a snarl, the Iberian twisted the blade at Antonio, cutting through the sling around the man's neck and the topmost layer of his shirt

But it wasn't enough to force the man back. Instead, he grabbed the axe's shaft, wrenching it out of Spain's grasp before he tossed it a few feet away and slammed the heel of his boot into the side of the nation's head. Bones cracked under his strength, but it wasn't enough to disorient him. He seized Antonio's ankle, digging his fingers into his wound and flipped him over, straddling him as he cocked his arm back and launched it at the man's skull. Antonio barely managed to move his head in time and the fist buried itself into the snow, giving him enough time to grab Spain by his shoulders and jerk him down. Black and white peppered Spain's sight as his skull collided with the human's and pain stabbed at his gut when Antonio kicked him back with his heels.

Cold ice surrounded his body once he hit the ground, and a strangled groan clawed itself from his lips and water leaked from his eyes with every frantic blink; damn, for a human, that bastard could hit hard and his bones were like steel compared to the feeble skeletons of the mortals back home.

He'd have to make sure the fool never got that chance again.

Spain shifted his weight, rolling to the side before gaining a foothold once more. A punch was thrown at his head and he side stepped it, quickly sending one back at his look-alike. Antonio screamed out as Spain's knuckles crushed the left side of his chest, crunching the ribs underneath, and with a spin, Spain's heel connected with the mortal's neck, sending him crashing into the snow.

How fascinating; so the human was fighting him with a set of broken ribs yet was able to ignore the pain. Spain smirked. He truly would've been a mighty adversary if he wasn't injured, but it meant nothing right then. Antonio was a fool for fighting with wounds, and even the adrenaline coursing through his veins couldn't block out _that_ much pain. A whimper mewed from his lips and he lay crumbled on the ground, clutching his sides as his legs weakly kicked at anything around him.

"Pathetic." Spain growled out, slamming the tip of his boot into Antonio's chest once more, earning a screech from both Romano and the mortal.

"Stop!" The Italian lunged forward, grabbing Spain by his wrist. "Please, just stop. I-I go back, I'll do _anything_, but please _stop_ hurting him!"

Emotionless emeralds were cast upon the weeping Italian, aching as his former charge cried so deeply for some human and tried to pull him away from the crumpled mess groaning in the snow. So pitiable. Why did Romano dare to lay with such a creature? Yes, sleeping with humans just for the sex was one thing, but _marrying_ one? It was unheard of. He just couldn't understand why he would leave him for this… this _thing_.

"Fine." Short and rather curt, his voice came from his mouth as he turned his back to the human, ignoring the grunts that vibrated from Antonio's throat. This human would die anyway; if an animal didn't eat him, the cold would suffocate the heat from his body, killing him slowly, even if he begged for a quick death. He would suffer… and how superb it would be.

It was a shame that Spain couldn't watch.

He strolled across the clearing, allowing his eyes to drink in the blood splotched snow. It was simply beautiful to his soul, and he regretted not spilling more than he did, yet he still sighed, growing quite bored with his world already. Spain just wanted to return home, to his welcoming bed with his beloved Roma where he would spoil the man with kisses and caresses, loving him until he would cry in bliss. He lost himself in thought, ignoring the crunches of snow and the sound of metal grazing against ice.

But…

He couldn't ignore the terrible, _terrible_ feeling of iron curving around his neck, hacking away at his throat with a single clean slice, bouncing off of his spine like stone. Blood gushed out of the wound his beloved _Maria_ inflicted upon him, pain stabbing at every nerve in his body as if he was thrown into sword pierced fire. He couldn't breathe, nor could he move a single muscle in his body. He could only gasp as he collapsed onto the ground, barely making out the form of his mirror self wielding his axe, covered with the nation's blood and those acid green eyes radiating a deep hatred he had never seen in a human. Then, everything melded into a black mist.

Clanking metal reverberated in his ear before it swirled around amongst the other sounds swimming around his head like thick, mucus tinged water. Romano yelled something to Antonio, but his voice was garbled up in the mess skidding through his brain, mutating into droning rumbles which were replied to with a deeper variation of the same noises before vibrations tickled at his skin. The two were running off, leaving Spain alone in the blood stained clearing.

That was unacceptable. _Horrendous_.

Spain's fingers twitched once he gained control of them again, sickening pops and jerks cracking at the skin in his throat as it repaired itself. He could taste the blood, _feel_ it slithering down his throat and into his stomach, and his breath scorched his lungs as it forced itself into his body, carrying more of the red substance into his airways before he coughed, spewing out copper tasting crimson with every gasp. His eyes flared open, white blinding him before they adjusted to the light and allowed him to see _Maria_ faithfully lying by his side. Fingers clinched around her, dragging her up as he forced himself to his feet, burning with vehemence. A single trail of spotted blood wound through the trees, easily traceable on the white of the snow and Spain grinned.

Those two could run, but it wouldn't be long until he found them and then…

He would chop them into pieces.

Limb.

By.

Limb.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes. I did end the chapter there.<strong> **While I can't guarantee the same length for the next chapter, I hope it will be just as exciting.**

**And I'm sorry if the fight scene wasn't very good. I'm not very experienced with those types of scenes yet, but I still tried.**

**Reviews are loved for the final chapters of this story (which should only be two more)**

**Until next time~**


	18. Gunpowder Tea

Fluid warmth slithered down Antonio's leg, matching the sharp pain shooting up his bones every time his stride pressed weight down on his injured foot. That cut from the mad man's blade was deeper than he originally thought, and much more painful without so much adrenaline coursing through his veins, growing worse with each jagged step in the unmarred snow. But he couldn't stop with how harshly Romano was tugging on his wrist, pulling him through the trees as if he was running for his life. His lungs screamed in protest, forcing haggard breaths and whimpered grunts through his lips yet he continued on, switching his eyes between the back of his husband's head and the ground with each pant.

Antonio couldn't carry on like this for much longer. Without a doubt, his ribs were pressing into the sack in his chest, scraping against the flesh with every small movement and threatening to puncture his lung with one wrong move. A coppery taste intensified in the back of his mouth, traveling up his tongue as he sputtered a cough flecked with red. "We need to get you somewhere safe, Antonio." Romano huffed out in slurred mumbles, using his free arm to push any stray limbs out of their way. "Spain's going to come back and he's going to be beyond pissed."

He continued to mutter things under his breath but a deep pounding in his ears prevented the Ispiahnan from comprehending his love's words. Antonio stumbled over his feet, suddenly dizzy as he pressed his weight into Romano's shoulder and mumbled in the man's ear, feeling the strength of his legs betraying him. "R-Roma..." His chin dug into the male's skin and desperately hooked his arm around the other's waist. "I can't... I can't... go anymore...please, let's rest..." With a groan, his voice died out into hisses and gasps flecked with blood. Romano halted his run, twisting around to gaze into his love's eyes before a sigh fluttered from his parted lips.

"Okay. We can rest." It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Blood swirled in the corner of Antonio's lips, dripping down and staining Romano's shirt red, but he couldn't let his husband know how injured he really was. After clearing out a patch of snow from the bottom of a tree, Romano gently lowered the man to the ground, laying him on his back so he could easily unbutton his shirt and evaluate the extent of his wounds. Bruises lined his ribs, painting the skin a shade of sickly yellow underlying coils of red and purple that blotched his entire left side and specked his right. "You're a fucking idiot."

Antonio yelped as Romano's fingers brushed over his broken ribs, convulsing and gasping for deep gulps of air before a haggard voice scratched in his throat. "F-For you..." His hand shot out, grabbing Romano's and squeezing with what remained of his draining strength, before he tugged those fingers up to his lips and tenderly kissed his knuckles.

"I'm not worth getting killed over, dammit!" Romano's voice remained soft, despite the anger growing behind the words flicking off of his tongue. A sigh hissed through his teeth. "I'm just not worth it. You should've let him take me."

"No." Antonio jerked Romano down to his level, running his nails though caramel tinged hair with quivering fingers as an incensed sigh brushed past his mouth, matching the furrow in his brows. "Never say...that...again..." With a grunt, Antonio gently pulled Romano so their lips could meet and he hummed into the kiss, caressing the back of his love's neck with the tips of his dull, blood streaked fingers. "You're worth it." He kissed the man again, weakly smiling as Romano responded to his tender gesture, cupping his husband's face between his hands and allowing tears to splatter against tan cheeks.

A trembling breath pushed itself through his nose when they separated. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into, idiot."

Antonio smiled though the rough hitch of breath escaping his lips as he gently brushed away the soft, stray hairs sticking to his love's face; a hum vibrated in his unsteady lungs. "Doesn't..matter...will always... protect you..." And he _would_, even if the man trying to kill him was impossibly strong and had the endurance of a racehorse. Romano was just too precious to him, and he was the only one he had left who loved and cared for him as both an equal and a lover, despite some of the harsh words and scowls he constantly shot at his husband. They only made him even more lovable.

"Dumbass..." Romano cradled Antonio's head between his arms, holding his weight off of the man by his elbows. A kiss was pressed into that sweat matted hair. "I don't want to leave you."

Antonio snaked his arm around Romano's torso, resting his hand against the nation's spine. "Then don't..."

"It's not that simple."

"I'll stop him."

Romano sniffled through the additional tears budding up in the corner of his eyes, using his thumb to caress the man's cheeks. "You can't... you can tear him down, break every bone and slit his throat... but he'll always come back." With a small whimper, he buried his nose into Antonio's neck., tingling the flesh with his warm breath and a small peck on the underside of his jaw. "I have to go... or he'll kill you."

No...no-no-no! He couldn't go, not after everything that had happened! Antonio clutched Romano's shirt, hissing and gasping as he shifted his legs. "Roma... please, no."

His love whimpered once more, scrunching up his brows. "I..I love you, Antonio..." Hands curled into brown tresses, drawing him closer without harming his shattered ribs as choked sobs clawed their way from the Italian's throat. "I'm sorry..." Tears were smeared on Antonio's neck, sending a cold shudder through his spine and he embraced his love with his uninjured arm, using the other to brush back the strands of hair clinging to Romano's skin. "I'm so...so sorry"

They were both hopeless... trying to make an improbable relationship work out as if everything was daisies and rainbows... but Antonio didn't mind. Ever since his darling little Romano entered his life only three months before, he smiled more often, laughed and enjoyed life, loving each day as it came by, even if it only meant that he could hold the male's hand. And... if he was gone... he wouldn't have a reason to carry on. He wouldn't be able to take another heartbreak, not after all that had happened. He dreamed of growing old with his husband, even if he would be the only one whose hair would grey and his bones would grow weak; it didn't matter to him. He just wanted to always be with Romano, nothing less... nothing more.

Antonio loved him. It was as simple as that.

Romano continued to cry into Antonio's shoulder, desperately grasping to the front of the Ispiahnan's shirt as tears clung to his cheeks, staining them a faint pink. He couldn't let him go with that monster, not after the way that he treated him. Not after the way that he tried to choke him, trying to take him away from his husband. Antonio would fight him to the death if it meant that Romano wouldn't be stuck in his clutches, suffering under his care, and if he had to die in the process... then so be it. "I won't... let you go." He gasped out, fighting against the pain exploding in his chest, fingering out to his back and shooting down his spine. "Won't... le-"

Leaves and sticks crunched under the weight of light feet, their snaps echoing into the air as Antonio halted his voice. They grew louder with each step, and each vibration swelled in Antonio's chest as a guttural rumble and the heat of aggression threatening to spill out into his muscles. Spain was coming to take his precious Roma away... but he _wouldn't_ allow that. A growl tumbled across his throat as he dug his nails into Romano's shoulder, tossing him under the Ispiahnan's weight and cradling him with his entire body, latching his hand across his back and pulling him flat against his husband's chest. Blood roared in his ears; drowning out all other sounds, save for the frantic pounding of his heart and Romano's shallow breaths. But the pain remained in his trembling body, especially in his broken arm, since he propped the majority of his weight on it and from the fear coursing through his veins. He knew... that he would die if Spain could come back from the dead like Romano could, but he _would_ give that monster hell before he could even _think_ about laying his grubby fingers on his husband.

There was a flash of auburn between the snow streaked trees, followed by a glint of softly tanned skin and an animalistic growl tore across his lungs, matching the sneer he shot at the man stepping out into the clearing. It wasn't Spain, but Antonio's threats didn't falter. If anything, they intensified at the sight of the man's appearance; He looked so much like his precious husband, only slightly younger and with darker eyes but the smile on his lips... it was forced, not at all genuine like the rare grins that graced Romano's face. "_Veneziano..._" His voice was soft as it wafted across Antonio's flesh and his grip loosened.

"_Fratello_." Feliciano replied to Romano, a calm, gentle smile creeping along his lips. He slowly tiptoed his way through the snow, his earthen eyes never leaving the two on the ground, but Antonio's protective hold tightened as he drew closer and his growl deepened, prepared to lash out at the younger Italian. A curt chuckle formed in Vene's throat as he continued forward, brushing off the brunet's feral warnings until he crouched down beside the two. He spoke in their strange tongue as words left his lips. "_Dov'è la__ Spagna?__ E 'sicuro__ per voi di essere __qui__ a riposo__?_"

"_Rianimare__ da qualche parte __nella foresta, __e questo __idiota __è ferito.__Non me ne vado__ da solo __in tutti questi __alberi."_ Romano answered his brother in the same language, letting out a small squeak when Antonio's right arm collapsed under the strain of his weight and forced his body to crash against his shoulder. His grip failed to yield, and he pulled his husband flat against his chest, lightly digging his nails into his skin. He didn't care how casual Romano seemed with the other man; he was a threat to Antonio.

He bared his teeth, snarling at the young adult. "You can't take him..."

Romano lightly pushed his husband away, cupping his cheeks before he tenderly kissed them. "_Antonio_, this is my little _brother_." He whispered to the fretful man in a language he could understand, gently running his fingers across his battered cheek. "He won't do that." His brother? So this was the Feliciano from Romano's home? Well, now he thought about it, he did look like an older version of the child, though he held more of an appearance to the man he clutched so dearly to.

The Ispiahnan's grip faltered, relaxing and using Romano's body as a prop. "Feli?"

"I'm guessing you met the Feliciano here." He kindly hummed to the two, folding his hands over each other.

"Yes. He's only five."

A cringe scuttled over Feliciano's muscles and pain contorted the features of his porcelain face in response to his brother's words, guilt raging behind the constant mask of glee covering his eyes. "_Dobbiamo sbrigarci_... "

Romano mumbled words to Antonio, asking him to release him and rest on his back rather than straining his already weak muscles. He complied with his love, allowing him to lay him down and rest his head in the man's lap but Antonio's eyes never left his brother, daring him to try to touch Romano. Fingers combed their way through the forest of curls, pleasantly scraping at his scalp every few strokes.

"_Fratello.__ A proposito di__Spagna ...__Non è__la __**vera **__Spagna__._"

Romano scoffed, glaring at his brother while his gentle caresses lovingly continued on the side of Antonio's head. "_Quello che è successo __mentre ero via_?"

"_Il__ governo ha utilizzato__ il corpo __della Spagna __per fare __forma umana__ della__ Nuova Spagna__. __Sapete cosa__ succede se__ lo fanno__._"

Antonio frowned as he attempted to understand the brothers' words. He remembered a few from when Romano attempted to teach him the language, but he still wasn't nearly fluent enough to comprehend their conversation. All he managed to pick out was that they were talking about that crazy alternate of his and that Romano's body was tensing with every word his brother spoke.

"_E gli Stati__ spagnoli__ minacciano di__ invadere__ se__ti vedono __con lui_."

Romano frowned as his fingers brushed over the shell of Antonio's ear. "_Chi __invadono__?_"

Feliciano's eyes avoided contact with his brother, shifting them to the ground and the trees. "_Te_."

"They really think they can take _me_ on?" Romano cackled as he reverted back to a language they all could understand while stroking Antonio's flesh with gentle fingers, glancing down at the man every now and then. "You're worrying about stupid things, Vene."

"Then what will you do?" How grave his voice became, matching the stern gleam washing away the carefree glimmer that glossed over his eyes and the frown on his lips. "You either stay here, or go back."

Romano sighed, interlacing his fingers with Antonio and listening to the rough huffs of air attempting to break his lugs even more than they already were. Even though they were finally speaking in a language he could comprehend, he still had no clue what their conversation was about and Romano apparently knew this as Antonio decided to bury his forehead into his lover's stomach. His eyes fluttered closed but his brows remained furrowed. "I...I don't know, Vene..."

"You have to choose."

"I know that, dammit! Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?" Romano's screech echoed among the fingers of the trees, bouncing off the bark and scaring away the birds perched up high. "Even if I stay here, I _won't_ die and I'll have to watch this idiot push fucking daises."

"You could resign..."

"I can't do that here! _Goddammit_, Feli, think things through for once, you fucking idiot!"

"But _Fratello..._"

"Don't give me that shit! I'm tired of all of this crap and I want you all to _leave_!"

Oh, his little Roma was yelling... screeching at his brother over his _resignation _subject, all of the muscles in his body tensing up in preparation for a fight... and he was still planning on leaving him. _Why? _Why would he do that? He could stop Spain from taking Romano, so why would he leave so willingly? Antonio tugged at Romano's blandly coloured shirt, gasping and sputtering out sounds that formed a sentence after the coughs raging though his throat. "No...yelling... Roma..." His grip tightened, using the cloth his husband adorned to pull himself up to a weak slouch. Coarse huffs tore their way through his lips. "Romano, _please_... don't go."

"I have to, Antonio."

"I love you... please...no..." He pressed a kiss onto the older brother's lips once he propped his weight onto Romano's shoulder, gently cupping and caressing his neck with the balls of his fingers.

Only a breath's space was left between the two when Romano pulled away, speaking against the other's lips. "I-I love you too, you big idiotic bastard... but I...I have to leave."

"Why? I don't undes-"

"You wouldn't... You'll _never_ be able to understand." Romano managed to croak out before he pulled the brunet in for another kiss, allowing their touch to linger before he pulled away and locked hazel against green. So sweet he was... such a caring husband. "He'll kill you, and I'm not even a _human_ Antonio. You _need_ to get it through your skull that I will _never_ be."

"That's not true, _fratello._"

"Vene, I've already told you, I ca-"

Papers immediately blocked Romano's view of everything, their words most likely appearing as nothing more than blurs and smudges against white, but the sheer dread that coursed through his blood at the mere presence of the parchments made Antonio question what they really were. His heart hammered against his ribs, throwing him against the tree in fright and dragging Antonio with him, who grunted in pain at the sudden movement. "H-h-h-how... d-d-did you get those?"

"I ordered the government to make them."

Oh... oh the pure _indifference_ that wiped away all emotion on his precious brother's face, resolve and strength swirling behind his almond eyes like nothing Antonio had ever seen before. It was cold... and lathered in so much pain at the same time, as if it was breaking the man to show his brother the papers. Antonio shifted his weight, casting his eyes on the parchments that sent anxious shivers through his husband's core. "What... are those?"

Romano shuddered, clutching tighter to the Ispiahnan in his arms. "Resignation papers."

He remained silent save for his ragged breaths, piecing together the small amount of information he had gathered before he carefully chose his words. "So... you can be _human_?"

"Yes. _Fratello_ will become mortal. He just has to sign."

"You dumbass! Nobody knows what happens if a nation res- Antonio, what are you doing?" Romano questioned his husband as his weight became fretful in his grasp, mustering all of his strength to hoist the two up but the elder held him down. He could be _human_, living with Antonio until they both died. _Happy... Together._ Antonio needed to give him something to sign those papers with... he needed his Romano to be with him. "Quill... ink... in the house..." The Ispiahnan managed to groan out, clutching at the pain stabbing his ribs.

Romano scoffed under his breath, forcing Antonio into his lap and cupping his face, making him stare into his eyes. "You don't sign with ink, idiot. You use b-"

"_Feliciano_!" A deep bellow rattled against the trees surrounding the three men, and Romano's brother nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly hiding the documents in the pocket of his jacket. Two blonds stumbled out into the clearing, one of them Arthur's alternate and the other was a tall, bulky man whose hair was neatly slicked back over his piercing blue eyes; their faces faintly red from running and the bite of the winter air.

"L-Ludwig..." He muttered out to the muscle packed man, standing up and rushing over to him. So... he was the blond child's alternate... meaning there probably was another Gilbert and perhaps a Francis in Romano's home world.

"Muscles is Germany. Bush brows is England." Romano whispered to Antonio, wrapping his arms his waist as he glared at the two men converse with his brother. "They don't like people calling them by their human names."

Two sets of names... how wonderful. Wouldn't they have trouble remembering all of them, and why wasn't Romano getting up to greet them like his brother did? As well as he got along with the ones here, they should've been best friends, shouldn't they? Instead, his husband clutched tighter to him as they glanced over to the two before sparing a few more words with Feliciano and walking over to the couple. Romano growled, trying to position himself between Antonio and the three other men.

England was the first to speak of the three. "Where is Spain, Romano?"

"Why the fuck should it matter? _You_ brought him here, so he's your fucking problem.

Maybe Romano wasn't on such good terms with England as he was with Arthur.

"Now listen here, you bloody twit. That lunatic has done nothing but threaten to kill _me_ ever since you disappeared, and now that he is here, he's _your_ problem too."

He definitely wasn't friendly with the blond, and Germany seemed to be completely lost in their conversation, apparently not able to fully comprehend the language but that didn't stop the tall man from trying to follow along as they continued to argue. "Dammit, you tea sucking bastard! What the _**fuck**_ were you thinking when you brought him here?"

"It was better than having him tear up my _house_!"

"_Fuck_ your god dammed house! He tried to kill my fucking _husband_, you asshole!"

All three of the men flinched at Romano's screech, and England sighed, running his fingers though that mop of straw hair. "Yes...well... I'm _terribly _sorry about that, but that _does_ bring up an issue."

Romano scoffed at England, intertwining his fingers with Antonio's as he gently glanced back at the man, checking on his condition no doubt. If anything, the pain _did_ die down in his ankle, so he should be able to move around for a little bit, but the coppery taste in his mouth only grew worse. England looked around the area, frowning as he did. "Feli told me that... er, Antonio, was it?" He glanced down at the Ispiahnan, seeking confirmation for the correct name before he continued, "Anyway, he said that Spain was reanimating in the forest, and I am assuming that it was Antonio's doing."

"Yeah. He tried to cut off the bastard's head."

England seemed... relieved, for the lack of a better word. "Good. That means he won't be stuck here."

"Stuck?" Antonio wheezed out, using a gentle touch to pull Romano beside him so he would rest his cheek on his shoulder, biting back a smile as he felt his husband wrap his arm around his waist and rest his own head atop his scalp. Such a kind gesture didn't prevent him from glaring at the three men, even as Antonio's world swirled around in his head, forcing him to blink a few times before it returned to normal but he remained slightly lethargic. His breath, on the other hand, remained jagged and painful in his chest.

"Yes, stuck." England sighed, glancing at his watch. "We got here by magic, as strange as that may seem to you, and one draw back... is if someone is physically wounded, the magic won't affect them."

Wait... wait a minute... He said that if they were wounded, they wouldn't be able to go back... but he nearly chopped through Spain's neck, with only the spine holding it together... shouldn't that mean that crazy alternate would be stuck in this world? "But Spain was..."

"He was hurt by you; a _human_." Romano spoke to his husband, keeping his voice peculiarly soft compared to his earlier shrieks. "He'll heal as if nothing happened at all." So... in essence, it _was_ a good thing that it was Antonio who tried to kill the man, rather than Romano or the other three men.

Antonio cringed at the sudden jolt of pain shooting up his spine, burrowing in the back of his head and stole his breath, leaving him barely able to hiss a small amount of air out of his teeth. It was almost unbearable, the amount of stabbing pain biting at his body... but he couldn't let his love worry. He had to be strong, for _him._

Only Germany seemed to notice his discomfort, but apparently he didn't know how to respond so he kept to himself, staying closer to Feliciano who refused to look at his brother.

"What are you going to do, Romano?" Bush brows asked, his glare suddenly shooting off in the direction that Antonio could only assume Spain was 'reanimating', whatever that meant. "I suggest you make a decision quickly."

Oh... his head was killing him... and his blood roared in his ears, matching the peppery spots flicking into existence in his line of vision. He jerked to the side, desperate to stay upright and awake. Romano watched Antonio with a concerned gleam in his amber eyes before he opened his mouth to reply, only to be unheard as the Ispiahnan fainted against his husband's shoulder.

* * *

><p>Once Antonio became a dead weight against Romano's shoulder, dread shot through his body like a cold bullet before slithering down his throat and festering in the deepest nooks of his stomach. He called out to his husband, even going so far as to gently slap at his blanching cheeks but only a frail huff responded to his words. This wasn't good... oh <em>god<em>, this_ wasn't _good, but he couldn't allow panic to settle in his bones, not with the threat of Spain returning any moment.

"Lay him down." England instructed once he was by the couple's side, furrowing those massive brows over jade eyes as he reached out for the Ispiahnan, helping the Italian lower his husband to the ground without agitating his wounds. Gloved hands then brushed over the broken ribs, lightly pressing to test the condition of the bones and pausing every time Antonio groaned against clinched teeth. "He's strong, for a human that is, being able to withstand a blow from _Nueva __España__. _But he's still in bad shape and needs medical help _now_."

"_No shit_, dumbass. I could've told you _that_!"

England scowled at the harsh words streaming from Romano's mouth, but he merely rolled his eyes in return, apparently used to the fact that the Southern Italian would never have anything kind to say about the Briton. "You better watch that mouth of yours, or else people won't be so inclined to help you."

"What, like _you!_ If you never brought Spain here, everything would've been a hell of a lot better!"

The blond sighed, gently running his hands over Antonio's injured ribs with a faint glow wafting off of his fingers like smoke. "Then tell me this," he grumbled as a small portion of the Ispiahnan began to shimmer as well, earning a tiny gasp from the human. "Can you feel your people, Romano?"

The Italian opened his mouth to retort a curt answer of '_of course I fucking do'_, but his voice caught in his throat. No... he didn't... not since the festival, he didn't feel a thing from his land. No pain from the mafia's riots... no interference of the government... nothing. He couldn't even sense the nations standing directly in front of him. He knew that a portion of it had to do with those papers his brother fabricated against the elder's will, but he wouldn't have lost his connection with Italy... nor should he be able to talk, since those papers literally take away a personification's should also be in more pain than Antonio, with the papers tearing him away from his real body yet he felt perfectly fine, physically at least.

"That's what I thought." England pulled his hand away from Antonio's chest, humming with content at whatever he did to the man. "This universe is forcing you to become your alternate because of something that has happened in Italy. You know what it is, don't you?"

"The resignation papers..." the Italian replied with a small voice, keeping his eyes away from his brother, who flinched at the flick of his words.

The blond backed away from the two brunets, but only enough so he could squat down on his haunches. "Yes, otherwise you'd still be a fully fledged Nation."

"So Vene showed you them..."

"Yes. Right before we left."

Romano allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he ran his fingers along Antonio's hand and up his arm. "Does Spain know?"

"No. We agreed that he would only know if you decide to stay."

Stay... He wanted to, yes... and now he had a way to live with his love as his own kind, even if he was _replacing_ the Lovino of this universe. But... if he did go back, and if there was any chance that he began to like the new Spain... he would be nothing but a replacement for Antonio, just as the human was a substitute for the original Spain. He really was a pathetic excuse for a faithful lover, wasn't he?

"So what are you going to do?" The Englishman asked once more, staring at Romano with his piercing green eyes. "Spain has reanimated, so you need to make up your mind."

That hulking potato bastard stepped forward and spoke in English... only for Romano to not know a single word that he slurred out in that horrid accent. He paused, waiting for the nation to reply but England spoke up instead, also in English. Germany listened to his small speech, his brows rising in surprise on his jagged face before those frigid eyes shot down to the Italian and his mouth opened, apparently chewing on his words before he allowed them to rumble in the air. "England says that you cannot speak any language that your alternate didn't know. Is that true?"

Romano frowned at the horrid Italian that the bastard spurted out of those potato sucking lips as he turned the question around in his head; he already realized that shit a month before, since all that he could remember was Latin, Italian and the tiny bit of German and French that Francis and the potato brothers taught him. Other than that... Spanish, English, Sicilian... they all vanished from his mind. "I guess, bastard." He replied in Italian, slightly amused how the potato seemed legitimately shocked from this. "Now what the hell did you say before?"

The bastard paused again, apparently not as fluent in the language as he originally thought; Vene obviously didn't teach him as much as he claimed. "I said..." another fumble on Germany's tongue, earning Veneziano's help once he pleadingly glanced at him. "...That I would stop Spain from... hurting you or Antonio if you wanted to stay."

"And if _you_ get hurt? If you stay here, you'll be killing _your_ alternate and he's only four." Germany began to reply, but his voice caught in his throat once Romano's words sunk into his skin and he paled, staring at the Italian as if he grew a second head. "Didn't think of that, did you, bastard?" A tremor ravaged the blond bastard's body and his eyes quickly flicked down to the snow drenched earth. Of course that muscle head didn't think about that. He probably assumed that his alternate would be an adult like he was, but if he only knew how much pain tiny Ludwig was probably in at that moment and how frantic his brother would be... he never would've come to this universe.

"The faster you choose, the less likely the child will be physically hurt by our presence." England finally spoke up as he rose to his feet, glaring off into the distant trees. "He's almost here."

Shit... how was Romano going to make up his mind with those bastards rushing him? He glanced down at Antonio, noting how his brows were a little bit more relaxed than before and his breaths seemed more even... softer as if his injuries were less severe. It must've been whatever that glow was before around the Brit's hands that healed him, if anything... but that tiny bit of relief would mean nothing if Spain killed him. With a tender touch, he brushed his fingers across Antonio's cheek, smiling as the idiot twitched and leaned into his touch, mumbling under his breath. Romano knew what he had to do... and there was nothing anyone could do to change his mind.

It had to be done...

Snow, twigs and branches alike snapped under a combination of footsteps and metal off to the group's left, quickly followed by a flash of sun-kissed skin streaked with crimson. Frenzied emerald eyes instantly locked onto Romano once Spain entered the clearing with his axe in hand, snarling through his blood smeared lips. "Where is he!" came the rumble from his throat and Romano instantly stood, putting himself between Spain and Antonio.

The Italian scowled at the fuming Spaniard, desperately trying to hide the fear scratching at his skin with a mask of confidence and anger. "You're not touching him."

"I'd like to see you try to stop me."

Romano clinched his teeth and his fists as stomped over to the Spaniard. "I'm not afraid of you, bitch." Such lies... such terrible lies that tumbled from his lips. He was _terrified_ of what his once loveable, idiotic caretaker had become and the glare that was burning holes into his soul didn't reduce the frightened tingles tickling at his flesh. He just prayed that the nation wouldn't take the chances of injuring his target and would spare the Ispiahnan's life in return for Romano's cooperation. "If you leave him alone, I'll go back with you and do whatever you want."

Veneziano uttered an incomprehensible sound in the back of his throat, but his brother ignored it as he stared down at the man before him. Spain growled under his breath, flicking his eyes down to his copy laying on the ground before they returned to Romano's face and furrowed, matching the grip around his axe. "Fine, but we leave him out here to die."

Of course the bastard would say something like that, but Romano had no choice but to agree with those conditions. Antonio was strong... he would survive, as long as he woke the idiot up. "I get to say goodbye to him, at least."

"Whatever. Make it quick."

Spain then made his way over to the other nations, slamming his axe into the ground and crossing his arms as he watched Romano kneel beside his husband. "Antonio." He gently called out, somewhat relieved when those emerald eyes fluttered open and locked onto the Italian. Yes... the idiot would survive, and he would continue to live the life that he desired... perhaps find a good wife to love and finally have all of those children that he wanted.

"Ro...ma..."

...the children that Romano would never be able to give him...

"Antonio... I'm leaving."

...all of the love and attention that his idiot love deserved to have...

"N-No..."

...the _life_ that he needed...

"I'm sorry."

...that he would never have with a nation for a husband...

"Roma... no...don't..."

...what he would've had with Lovino...

"I love you, idiot."

...this really was goodbye...

With one last kiss to blood lined lips, Romano backed away from the man trying so hard to stand up and reach his husband, only to lose almost all of his strength and tumble back onto the ground in a heap of painful groans. He turned away from the awful sight, furiously attempting to block out Antonio's cries by focusing on Spain's enraged glare. "Don't even think about it." The Italian growled at the Spaniard as England pulled out a book from his inner pocket.

The blond murmured archaic words and elevated his hand so it was parallel with the ground, watching it as it began to glow a faint green along with the space around the five nations. Small gusts of wind swirled at their feet, fluttering against their clothing and hair alike with tiny flecks of crumpled leaves and snow. A strange sense of suffocation overtook Romano, making him feel like he was trapped in a box that grew smaller and smaller every minute that passed, but it grew worse when his eyes strayed back over to his husband.

He was a mess... leaning against the tree while still sprawled out on the snow covered ground, clutching his face in agony as tears poured from the gaps between his fingers. He knew that he couldn't get his love to change his mind... but only if he knew the reason why... he would never know... and perhaps it was best for it to remain that way.

Their eyes locked on each other, emerald against hazel and Romano could feel the tears prickling under his lids before they began to stream down his face. Without realizing, his lips began to move, forming words that he could only hope that the bastard would recognize;

_I'll always love you more._

Antonio lost all of what remained of his composure once Romano was sure that he realized what the message meant, turning into nothing but a pile of tears and sobs. He clawed at his face with his nails, creating white streaks from the force of his fingers digging into his skin and a wail broke from his lungs... howling into the forest like a feral beast losing his life companion.

"Ten seconds before we go home." England called out, allowing his hand to rise above his head as the light surrounding them intensified. This was the end... the last time he would ever see what he had called home for the past three months.

Those three months that he wanted to repeat a thousand times over if it meant he could stay with his love.

But this was for Antonio's own good...

Romano sighed, straining to see the idiot over the bright lights blinding his sight... and then there was the feeling of _something_ being torn from his body. Something physical... as if a weight had been lifted from his body, making him feel oddly light and weak under all of the pain that clawed at his skin and his heart, blotching out his sight with white and black. He became out of breath, his lungs constricting and expanding in an attempt to force air back into his chest.

...but when his sight returned to normal...

...he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

And then nothing but white...

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter is the last chapter.<strong>

**If there are any questions that you want answered (eg. _Why is Spain so cra_zy?) ****Feel free to ask, so I can post those as an author's note at the end of the final chapter, that way it can clear up anything for multiple people who have the same question.**

**Other than that, check out these epic drawings (just remove spaces)**

**lizzywizzywoo. deviantart. com /art / SOUND-LIFE-dark-spain-pic-268295635**

**alexanderxchan. deviantart. com /art / Sound-Life-Spain-268010384**


	19. Sound Life

**Well... this is it. Enjoy.**

**And yes... over 15,000 words for this chapter. You're welcome.**

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><p>Spiraled... like a twisting hand offering him the chance to escape from a horrid metal encased world... only to lead him into another shit hole...<p>

That's all that Romano could see as he stared down the gun pointed at his head, quietly noting to himself several flaws in his brother's plan to apparently shoot him. Uncertainty, regret and fear coiled behind those soft brown eyes that Romano had never seen with so much as a trace of anger flash across. Poor Veneziano... he couldn't even hold the weapon without shaking. Even under that mask, making him appear so much like his elder brother, he was still the sweet nation that Romano had grown to resent over his lifetime...

Maybe nothing really changed since Romano left.

"Italy! Put down the gun!" England's command echoed throughout the room in that unmistakeably harsh tongue of English and Veneziano blinked before his eyes widened, filling with tears that slithered down his cheeks.

"N-No!" His grip tightened around the gun, finger tensing on the trigger. "H-He has to stay! He can't be with Spain!"

"It's too late, Italy!" That blond fucker roared again, dashing over to Veneziano's side and grabbed the gun, snatching it out of his hands and slinging it across the room. "We're already back."

"NOO!" Poor Veneziano wailed out, collapsing to the ground in a mess of tears and choking sobs. "No... he was supposed to be _happy_."

"And he will be." Everyone's eyes flicked over to the Spaniard off to the side, dismissing his axe with a simple wave of his hand before he turned his gaze to the older Italian, wincing as if he had pain welling up in his head. "Roma will be happy _here_. With _me._ Won't you, Roma?" Those eyes... so green and pouring out several emotions that failed to make their presence known when he was in the other universe... they could almost be called... hopeful... pleading even... Completely different from the angry, murderous orbs that burned fear into Romano's blood. It was almost as if an entirely different variation of his own personality was beginning to take over his body.

"He will _never_ go with you!" With a screech, Veneziano lashed out, seizing his brother by the wrist as he made his way to the door. It probably didn't help that Romano still towered over the younger Italian, making their steps awkward and slightly painful but it didn't stop his brother. He continued on, just about to slam the door open before Spain's voice echoed through the room, commanding everyone's attention to be drawn towards him.

"Roma's staying with me, and I'll tear you to shreds if you try to take him from me _again_!"

_Again_...? Romano sneered, opening his mouth to speak but he found that his voice had been lost, most likely stolen from the resignation papers still crumpled up in his brother's inner pocket. He could also feel a gentle pain tickle at his flesh, only a mere shadow of what was to come if those documents weren't destroyed, or at least so he had heard from nation's whose leaders had fashioned resignation papers as a threat. So instead, he frowned, halting his weight from being tugged any further by Veneziano as he focused his attention on the Spaniard, who was now clutching his head and grunting in pain.

"I won't let you hurt him!"

Shouldn't _he_ have a choice in what the hell was going to happen to him? Where the fuck did these bastards get off on the idea that the proud _South Italy _had to listen to them? So what if they used to be the strongest nations of old, they were long past their youth. Other countries now held the reins of power to the world, and it was about damn time that they learned that.

Romano snatched his hand out of his brother's grasp, completely disregarding the small noise the younger Italian made in protest along with his words. He was tired of people trying to decide for him what he should do; threatening him and his loved ones if they didn't get their way. Antonio wasn't here. Spain _couldn't_ hurt him. But... he _could_ still bring harm to Veneziano, and no matter how annoying and irritating the man could be, he was and always will be Romano's little brother. If Spain touched one hair on his head... oh, he would break every bone in that bastard's body.

The elder Italian outstretched his hand, glaring at Veneziano with a neutral gleam in his eyes, not allowing any emotion on his face even as his brother flinched under his stare. Romano curled his fingers, hurrying the younger for what he wanted. "But...but Lovi..." A snort came from the darker brunet, finally forcing the other to yield to his demand. Veneziano quietly slipped hesitant fingers into his jacket and pulled out the crumpled documents.

"What are those?" Spain asked from a few feet back, cocking his head to the side to catch a better glimpse of the two brothers' hands.

That potato bastard spoke as England began to spout out the same words. "They're resignation papers."

"What? Why the hell would he have those?" Came Spain's screech, bubbling with anger and a tinge of panic, thoroughly shocking Romano in the process. "Roma can't be human! He...he _can't_."

"He's _not_, you twit."

Romano snatched the papers from his brother, instantly turning to shuffle through the various items lined on the shelf against the wall, carefully listening to England and Spain's words.

"They haven't been signed yet."

"How do you know! I can't sense him!"

How..._fearful_... that bastard came off to be; his words literally shaking in his mouth before they tumbled from his tongue.

"You've just now noticed that? You really are more oblivious than I previously thought."

Metal, plastic and glass alike clattered against each other as Romano shoved items aside, checking every box and cranny for anything he could use to set the parchments aflame. Nothing yet, sadly. Even a simple match would work.

Spain and England continued to scream at each other, each word becoming more ragged than the last as their voices escalated to the point where it sent Veneziano into tears. Germany immediately hustled over to the weeping half-nation, mumbling in his ears sweet words that made Romano want to gag.

"Everything is _your_ fault!" The Spaniard screamed, throwing something small, but heavy against the wall on the opposite side of the room. England sighed, and Romano could only agree with him; a tantrum from such a man... it was vexing. "It's your fault Roma doesn't love me anymore!"

"You are an idiot. You have no idea what really happened, do you?"

Romano froze just as his fingers curled around what looked to be a lighter. How the hell would that brow bastard know what happened? He wasn't there!

With the lighter in hand, Romano spun around, fixing a glare on the blond holding his ground against at frenzied Spaniard with tears trickling down his face. Wait... tears? _**Tears**_! After all of those bat-shit insane antics of his only minutes before, that bastard was crying over the thought that Romano didn't _love_ him anymore? God, whatever the humans did to him really fucked that bastard up. But... could he be fixed? Romano only heard rumours about the situation Spain was in, and that no one really knows what happens to a nation with a previously dead body... at least in the end anyway. Was this bastard even Spain... or just a different mind coping with whatever was left over from the original Spain's personality?

He had to know... Romano... he still loved the Spanish idiot... but his love for Antonio was greater, and he couldn't understand _why_. Spain had been there for him his _entire life_ and the human had only been there for what could be considered a mere blink of his eyes.

Romano stared down at the two objects in his hands. He could always ask England to send him back so he could sign the paper with a drop of blood, and for him to lock Spain away and never allow him into that world again. Romano could be _happy_, living with his husband until they both died of old age; sharing hugs, kisses and everything else that they desired. He could leave this life behind... and live as a _human_.

"I just want... for my Romanito to love me again..." It was nothing more than a quite whimper, unusual yet common for such a strong nation and it struck something in the Italian. Something that he couldn't explain... It was like a bug trying to break free of a spider's web, constantly writhing and squirming against its prison as the predator watched on with a toothy grin along its hideous face. Somehow, he _knew_ that the Spanish bastard would be nothing but a sobbing mess if Romano abandoned him again, just like when he gained his independence from the idiot... and he never wanted to see him like that...

_I'm sorry... Antonio_._ But I have to stay here; if only to keep my brother safe._

Without a word, although he really didn't have much of a choice at the moment, Romano walked over to Spain, glaring at the older nation as those tear stained eyes glanced up at him. Strange... how weak the man appeared when Romano was towering over him, so different from when he had to crane his neck back just so see his face. He snorted, thrusting the items into Spain's chest. "Roma..." the bastard whispered, staring down at the paper and lighter with enlarged eyes before they shot back up to Romano's face. "Does... does this mean..." He huffed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. _Yes_, it meant that. This bastard was as much as a fucking idiot as he was before. And oh, the _smile_ that stretched Spain's lips at the tiny action; it was almost like a child receiving a gift.

There was a tick, followed by another as Spain flicked his thumb over the thumbwheel and his grin expanded, glittering against the flame the lighter produced. It licked at the air, flickering with the slightest fluctuation before the corner of the documents was lowered onto its hungry tongue. Instantly, it ate away at the parchments, filling Romano with sensations that swelled with each letter desecrated by the flame. He closed his eyes as an aura encased his body, much like the slithering of warm water down his skin.

The melodic winds of Calabria...

The life of Sicily...

The musical beats of Rome...

His _people_... his _land._ Oh, how they coursed through his blood, dancing along his skin with laughter and livelihood that all nations grew to adore. He could already smell the acres of fluttering vineyards stretching across the earth, matching the serene shores that ran down his body, filling him with the aroma of the sea and air. Romano was overcome by such warmness, and hospitality his people were known for. And then... there was that familiar _bond_ he felt, like a second heartbeat, pulsating when his expanded, creating a soothing symphony that only he and another knew. Romano smiled, relishing the pleasant feelings prodding at his flesh.

Then... it was as if he was resting in a hot shower, shivering as the pleasantly warm water slipped off of every muscle on his body, caressing him over the light tingle under his skin. A heat of some kind welled up in his throat before branching out down his spine, nipping at his fingers and toes as it travelled downward before bouncing back up. Romano's clothes shifted over his skin, feeling as if the garments were growing while he was still wearing them, and he became thankful for the suspenders holding up his pants. A dull pain pricked at his fingers, pulsating every second or so but it was more of an annoyance than anything else; the riots had stopped, how long ago, he didn't know and his people were still rebuilding the damaged buildings caught in the uprisings of the mafia.

He would have to have a short talk with them later.

Warm, callused skin brushed past his cheeks before burying themselves in his hair. "Roma... you're normal again. I can _sense _you." Smouldering breaths wafted upon his lips as the words were spoken, before they were covered by a soft mouth. Romano sharply inhaled at the sudden action, taking in the aroma of sun-baked earth and tomatoes as his eyes shot open. Once again, he was level in height with the Spanish bastard, but... this felt _wrong_ even though that unique tingle that plagued his skin whenever Spain was around. Yes... this idiot was indeed the Spanish idiot, if based on that sense alone. And the gentle way that the brunet hummed into their kiss, carefully drawing their bodies closer while the Italian did nothing in reaction to the sudden invasion of his personal space... it _reeked_ of Spain, in every way.

They pulled apart far enough for Spain to gaze into Romano's eyes, tenderly brushing away a few stray hairs out of the Italian's face before another kiss was gingerly placed upon neutral lips. Was this...right? To be so easily taken by the man who he loved for god knows how many years when he was _married_ to another? Was that marriage even valid here? And... were these actions _real_, or were they just a ploy for the Italian to let down his guard? "Roma..." Spain whispered between the sugary kisses he pressed all over the Italian's face before he hugged the man, nestling his head into the crook of Romano's neck. The Spaniard inhaled Romano's scent, pressing another kiss on the flesh of his neck as he frowned "Roma... why are you being so... so-"

"Unresponsive?" England asked for him. The blond sighed, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth as he circled around the two, glaring at them with his massive brows furrowed. "He may be fixed physically, but it will take time for his emotions to be repaired."

Emotions to be repaired? He was perfectly _fine_ emotionally. It was Spain that had his head off where ever it was, not Romano. "Bastard, wha-"

"You'll see what I mean later. If you don't by the next world meeting, I _might_ spare a few words for you. Right now, I'm heading home. I'm tired of you bloody gits." The Briton grumbled, as he promptly left after his short spewing of words. Well... that had to be expected by the Englishman. He _did_ just travel to a different universe, carrying other people with him so he _had_ to be exhausted and grumpy as hell... actually, he was always grumpy but the stress had to make it worse.

Spain made a strange noise, similar to those that leapt from his lips whenever he was confused. "Roma, what does he mean by 'fixed physically'? You look the same as you always have." He whispered into Romano's ear. What… what the hell? Did he not just comment on how Romano was back to normal?

Germany sighed, gently patting Veneziano on the back. "So Romano." He mumbled, seeming a bit nervous under the scrutinizing glare of both Spain and the Southern Italian. "What are _you_ going to do?"

Yes… yes indeed. What was he going to do? He could go back to Italy, and take care of his brother who's health would surely decline now that he didn't have the strength that the resignation papers would give him. But if he did, there would be the chance that Spain would form the assumption that Vene was trying to take Romano away from him, putting the younger brother in serious danger. He couldn't take those odds. Veneziano needed to continue having a carefree life. Romano would take all of the burdens of being a nation, just as he had done before, ever since their grandfather had died.

Besides… aside from that one time, Spain hadn't harmed Romano. Instead he threatened to kill everyone else for damaging the Southern Italian. But that still couldn't change the possibility that Spain would lash out if they were alone, or if anything strange was going to happen.

"I'm going with Spain." Veneziano howled at Romano's decision, weeping into Germany's shoulder as he clutched to him as tightly as he could, muttering how he didn't want his brother to go with that _monster_. Spain, on the other hand, let out a pleased hum and released the elder Italian from his hug. Romano glared at the Spaniard, feeling a flutter in his heart; he could only see Antonio behind those beautiful emerald eyes gently gazing at him. But…would those kind eyes still be there when they were alone, or would they be replaced by that vicious monster skinned in the appearance of his lover?

It wouldn't matter anymore.

Without another word, Romano walked in the direction of the door and Spain followed behind, but the elder Italian only paused to briefly glance at his brother. Vene wanted him to be happy… and there he was, going with one of the few people who could make him _unhappy_. Well, if it really meant that much, the younger should've shot him when he had the chance. He should've taken the safety lock off and fired before they came back here.

When the door opened, the light never seemed so horrible.

Spain and Romano didn't share a word as they walked back to the Spaniard's home from their previous location somewhere in Andorra, but it didn't keep that idiot from merrily humming along to some tune in his head. He clung to Romano's hand, refusing to let it go and the Italian refrained from linking his fingers with the older nation's. He would let the bastard have his fun, but he'd learn that Romano was still pissed at him for attempting to beat his husband into a pulp. Yet, in the back of his mind, Romano was slightly afraid of Spain and that fear only grew with each mile closer to what would most likely be his prison.

About three hours later, they reached Spain's home and its keeper eagerly pulled Romano inside. Nothing had changed since he was last there, except the curtains were opened instead of closed. "Roma, are you hungry?" Spain questioned him, gently pulling him to the kitchen. Romano panicked; there were _knives_ in that blasted room of his, not to mention heavy pans and other items that Spain could possibly use to harm the Italian. He didn't want to be alone with this man… this _shell_ of a man that he once loved, whose violent nature could lash out any given moment.

He couldn't let the bastard know of the fear bubbling up in his stomach. "I'm fine, bastard." Romano managed to grumble out without a hint of apparent trepidation, even as he snatched his hand away from the Spaniard. He needed to get away… he needed to _think_. "I'm tired, so I'm going to take a nap. Don't bother me, idiot."

Spain merely smiled at Romano's declaration. "You can use any room and I'll be sure to have something for you to eat when you wake up, _mi amor_." He took a step forward, gently kissing Romano's forehead before whispering in his ear those same words he would say to the Italian every night long before all of this shit happened, "_Que sueñes con los angelitos. Te amo._"

A huff sufficed as Romano's reply and the idiot thankfully wandered into the kitchen while the brunet made his way upstairs, subconsciously bee-lining to Spain's bedchambers. Though it may have not been the best idea at the time, Romano didn't particularly care at the moment, especially as tears welled up in his eyes. Sobs burst from his mouth the instant his body collapsed into Spain's mahogany sheets, allowing him to release all of the pain that had built up that morning alone.

He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be with _Antonio_... in that world that was free of the violence that Romano had to live with for his entire life, and free of the fear that the man he loved might strangle him in the night for not being the _pure_ being that he wanted. He should've just said no to Spain. But what could he do now? He was stuck here for however long Spain wanted to keep him prisoner. Maybe he should call England and ask him to send him back... but with the resignation papers destroyed, he wouldn't age and would have to watch his husband die.

Romano flipped over to his back with his legs hanging off the side of the mattress, staring up at the beautiful sheets cascading down the side of the bed's canopy. All of this shit just wasn't fair. He wanted none of this. Was it too much to ask for him to actually be _happy_ for once? Yet... he found himself slightly curious of the strange way Spain seemed to act when they were in that shed-like building. So different he became over such a short period of time, not once bringing up the subject of the other universe as if he didn't care...

...or didn't remember.

Tears continued to slithered down his reddening cheeks for what had to be an hour, and he wiped them away, only for them to be replaced by more with each hiccup that leaped from his lips until they hazed over his mind, forcing him to fall asleep.

Romano had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up and he actually felt refreshed when he did, save for the burning in his eyes from the tears. It was nice and tepid in that room, the sunlight danced across his face and shoulders, earning a smile in return for their performance. Whatever was holding him was also pleasantly warm and Romano found himself inattentively snuggling his back into the soft heat, grinning as he buried his cheek into the feather stuffed pillows.

Wait… when did he move…? Didn't he fall asleep on his back and with his legs over the side of the bed? And… what the hell was that warm, moist air slithering down the back…of…

Romano's eyes shot open, the icy fingers of fear draining away what warmth was in his body as the figure behind him shifted in response to the Italian's sudden rigidness. Oh god… Spain was holding on to him with both arms around his waist, his chest lightly pressed into Romano's back and his nose neatly tucked behind his head. He tried to pull away from the nation, but Spain whined under his breath and tightened his grip, snuggling his nose deeper into Romano's hair and he smiled, humming once he was comfortable.

It was strange, for a lack of a better word. Why was Spain so cuddly all of a sudden when he was a psycho-bitch earlier that day? It didn't make any sense, but he had a nagging feeling it had to do with the humans using body for _Nueva España's_ mortal form. He _wanted _answers, and there wasn't any fucking way he was going to get them with that bastard clinging to him in his sleep. "Hey, bitch!" Romano called out as he nudged Spain in the stomach with his elbow, growling when the bastard decided to whine instead of getting his ass up. He yelled at Spain again, hitting him harder this time.

"Mmmmmnnnn, but Roma~"

"Dammit, bastard! Get your ass up!"

Romano managed to twist himself around in Spain's grip to properly push the man away, only to come nose to nose with the grinning bastard who gently pecked him on the lips. "¿_Dormiste bien_?" He really wished that bastard would stop kissing him so light heartedly despite the pleasant flutter in his stomach every time he did press those lips against his skin. But that wasn't the point at the moment. Spain kissed him once more, chuckling as Romano turned red and attempted to push him away. "I'm taking that as a yes, _mi corazón_." He finally released Romano from his hold and sat up, stretching his arms up to the ceiling and hummed in delight as his joints popped in a sonata of sharp cracks.

Romano stared at him as he stretched, watching how that sun-kissed skin moved so easily under the black sweater that Spain had changed into during the Italian's nap, along with the plaid bottoms flowing over his legs. "Why did you change your clothes, bastard?"

A frown ceased Spain's lips and he twisted over, settling himself between Romano's legs. He wrapped his arms around the Italian's waist. "Somehow I got blood all over them. It's weird; I don't remember how, or whose blood it was." Spain peered up at Romano through the mess of curls on his head, gently smiling as he ran his fingers up and down the Italian's spine. "Your clothes are a bit dirty too." He... he didn't remember? How the hell couldn't he? "Let me get you so-"

"What do you mean, you don't fucking remember?"

Spain's head tilted to the side. "I don't know, Roma." A sigh came from his mouth and he closed his eyes. "It's like how my calendar says that it's February, but the last day I remember was when the reconstruction happened. That was in December."

"You don't remember anything over the past months?"

Spain nodded a short 'no', and he nestled his cheek into Romano's stomach. "Hmm. So it really _is _February. I thought I changed it to mark something... but apparently not."

"What do you remember from this morning?"

Spain shifted again, dragging his head up Romano's chest so he could place a kiss on his jaw. "The first thing I remember is kissing you in that shed, before England left." That couldn't be... Did that bastard really not remember trying to tear Antonio to shreds? "By the way, what was Ita so upset about?"

"Spain." Romano's voice was stern as he took the Spaniard's face into his hand, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Do you remember anything about burning papers?" A nod 'no'. "Snow?"

"Roma, there isn't any snow in the peninsula today."

"What does the name _Antonio_ mean to yo-"

The next thing he knew, large, calloused fingers were wrapped around his neck, pressing him deep into the mattress as they cut off his airways, matching the rage that spontaneously burned in Spain's eyes. He was sneering down at the man he was assaulting, penning down the younger nation's kicking legs with his own as scalding words ground past his teeth. "_Never speak of him again._" Spain pressed down with more force, ignoring the panicked gasps trying to escape from Romano's mouth. Black peppered his sight, blocking out the furious grimace above him. And then... just as suddenly as it happened, this throat was released.

Air never seemed so good as it gushed back into his lungs, sending tingles down his body with every heave of his lungs. Romano blinked several times before his vision returned to normal, save for the water pooling up under his lids and immediately, perhaps even subconsciously, they began a frantic search for his assailant. They found Spain at the bottom of the mattress, his hands covering his mouth as he gawked at Romano with fear stained emeralds; his entire body was quivering, corresponding to his breath seeping through his teeth in violent shudders.

Romano rubbed at his neck, propping himself up with one elbow. "What the fuck was that, you asshole?"

"I-I-I don't know..." Spain sputtered out. Tears trickled from his eyes but he didn't bother to wipe them away. "You were a-asking me about a _n-name_... and then... then my hands were around y-y-your neck and... my head b-b-began to hurt... I'm so sorry, Roma... I...I don't know what happened!"

Romano scowled, a thought forming in the back of his mind. "What was the name?"

"I don't know... I don't remember you saying any name."

"What did _you_ say to me... during _that_?" His voice was hoarse, but it only had to be expected after such a violent attack.

"I said something? Oh god... what's happening to me?"

So... he didn't remember anything... whenever that _aggressive_ side of him seemed to come out? Romano frowned once more, gazing at the now sobbing Spaniard. It was like two different people were in that body of his, fighting over who should control it... If... if he somehow had more than one personality... it wasn't _this_ Spain's fault that Antonio got hurt, if Romano's theory was correct.

With one final sigh, Romano crawled over to Spain and pried his hands away from his face; he wiped away the tears with the back of his fingers. "Look... I'm not hurt, okay? Don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn't _your_ fault that all of this shit happened." At least he hoped so.

"You're not j-just s-saying that to ma-ake me feel better?"

A smiled formed on Romano's lips. "No. I really mean it." Spain hiccuped through a grin of his own and wrapped his arms around Romano, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you... R-Roma."

Perhaps he would be able to work around whatever was fucking with the Spaniard's mind. He returned the hug, resting his chin on the bastard's shoulder as he allowed him to sob into his shoulder, apologizing for his violent behaviour. They remained there for a moment before Spain forced himself to release the Italian, smiling as he ran his fingers across the olive eyed brunet's skin. "You're so beautiful."

Romano scoffed, averting his eyes from the Spaniard. "Shut up, bastard." Spain chuckled at the red surely spotting his cheeks and the pouting frown across his lips. "I thought you said you'd feed me."

"Of course, _mi corazón_."

* * *

><p>Nearly a month passed without much trouble from the Spaniard. A few times that violent side of his managed to get out after Spain complained about a horrible headache, but the most damage he managed to do was a few bruises along Romano's shoulders, back and legs from where he shoved the younger nation around. Spain didn't remember any of those outbursts, often questioning where he acquired his wounds, but Romano knew that he eventually realised that he was the one responsible. If anything, Romano learned to avoid bringing up the other universe or Antonio, and secretly referred to <em>him<em> as _España_, just to make it a little less confusing on his part. Other than that, Spain remained that loving bastard that Romano grew up with; always smiling, singing and trying to impress the Italian with stupid little things. He even made the younger nation dance with him every week to some strange records that he found while digging through his basement. Spain would also clung to Romano whenever the younger was reading, annoying him to no end as he dug his chin into his shoulder and complained when the page was turned too quickly for him to read.

Usually, he'd eventually give up and take it upon himself to leave marks all over the Italian's neck, most of them having the appearance of weak bruises.

Romano, on the other hand, refused to lather such affectionate actions on the man, hardly letting him hold his hand while they were alone. Sure, he'd let him kiss him all that he pleased, at least to a reasonable extent, but it was more to keep that psycho from coming out than for his own pleasure. Yet, at night, Romano caved into sleeping beside the man, neatly tucked between his arms as he slumbered, claiming it was the only way he could sleep in a house that creaks so damn much.

But he still found his mind constantly drifting back to his husband, missing that smile and the beautiful way he spoke Latin, yet... every day, Antonio's face was replaced with Spain's... that love for him dying away as his love for Spain was excavated from the caverns of his mind. It was strange... playing out exactly how it originally did for Antonio, only in reverse, and Romano began to truly wonder what England meant by the universe repairing his emotions; there had to be a connection. Thankfully, the world meeting was today and Romano had a few things he wanted to discuss with certain people.

But right now, he had to wait on that bastard be overly picky about what he wore to the meeting, claiming it would be the first time he would be representing _Nueva España_ and the Spanish States and that he would have to be _professional._

"Roma~ Which tie should I wear?" Spain called out to the younger nation as he glanced over to the man lying on the bed with his hands resting below his head. Holding two ties, one red and the other black, Spain walked over to Romano and presented them to him.

"Does it really matter?" Romano asked him as he propped himself up on his elbows, careful not to wrinkle his own suit.

"You always tell _me_ to dress nice..."

"It's a fucking world meeting, dumbass, and everyone knows _you_, even if you're representing different legal boundaries. You're still the same _land_."

"But Roma~ I'm _Nueva España__ and_ the Spanish States now. Not _Spain_."

Romano rolled his eyes. Didn't they already go over this? "It's the same damn thing!" He rose to his feet, hands on both on his as he stared down the curly haired Spaniard holding the two ties up to him.

"But it's still an important occasion."

"Dammit, it's not like a fucking date or some shit like that." Silk slithered over his fingers when he reached up to take the black tie from Spain's hand. He sat up before rising to a stand, wrapping the cloth around the Spaniard's neck.

Hands moved up to his waist, gently rubbing at his flesh through the layers of clothing. "Maybe we _could_ make it a date." Within seconds, the tie was properly fashioned and neatly flattened out against Spain's white shirt before fingers reached up to fold the collar of the button-down. Spain snatched Romano's fingers into his own, pulling him closer and kissing him on the lips. He pushed against the soft flesh with his mouth, trying just as he always did to coax Romano into opening up, but the Italian held his ground against the gentle touches. Although his feelings for the Spaniard grew with every day that passed, the love for Antonio remained as a veil over his actions... he didn't want _anything_ until England explained what the hell he meant when he came back to this universe.

"Roma..." Spain murmured against the Italian's lips, tightening the pressure of his fingers against Romano's waist. "Please..." He kissed him again. "Open up to me..._por favor._"

_No... no...please... just stop._ Romano wedged his hands between the two's chests yet he didn't push Spain away. There was too much of a chance of that insane _España_ tearing through and trying to harm him, as it did the first time he pushed the Spaniard away when he was overly affectionate. Even through the slight fear, he knew that part of him _wanted_ to openly love Spain in return, but the other half... the half that was dwindling away day after day... it was still loyal to Antonio.

Eventually, Spain gave up trying to elicit a response. Romano stared down at the floor the moment they parted, averting Spain's eyes no matter how hard he tried to look into them, finally forcing him to resort holding his head between his fingers. "Roma. Why are you still acting so distant from me? You do love me, don't you?"

"I do... but it's not that simple..." Romano replied in a whisper, focusing his sight on Spain's tie. It wasn't like he could bring up Antonio and without doing that, it wouldn't make any sense to the elder nation. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's okay, Romano." Spain wrapped his arms around the Italian. "I'll wait for you."

He'd _wait... _he's already been waiting for over three hundred years for Romano him to properly return his feelings, and they both knew it. With a small kiss, Spain released him and made his way out of the room, letting out a disappointed sigh when he was far enough that he assumed that Romano wouldn't hear him. Romano exhaled himself, idly fixing his tie as he stared at the door. He knew how much this was hurting the Spaniard; he'd already caught the man sobbing in his study, claiming that someone he knew had died.

That bastard was always such a horrible liar.

Once he made his way downstairs, Spain was already waiting on him with his jacket in hand, earning a scowl and huff in return before he was allowed to slip the sleeves over the Italian's arms. With a smile, the elder nation opened the front door and they made their way out to Spain's car.

The trip to France was made in silence, save for the music crackling out of the old auto's speakers, erupting into nothing but static every time they passed through a town and wining out melodies of guitars when they were in a clearing. Spain hummed to a few tunes, indolently tapping at the steering wheel when songs he liked hummed over the roar of the engine. Romano kept his attention to the passing scenery, resting his cheek on his knuckles, sometimes watching the Spaniard through the corner of his eye. Every now and then, the idiot would glance at the Italian and his hands would tighten around the wheel, painting his knuckles a sickly white. Romano sighed. What an idiot.

By noon, they reached the old building housing the world meeting. Several cars of all sorts were parked in front of the doors, including the potato bastard's ugly monstrosity and the tea freak's proudly _English _hunk of metal. "Look at those ugly ass cars." Romano growled out, still sitting in the same position he had for the past few hours. "Don't these bastards have a sense of _taste_?" Spain sighed, shifting the car into park before leaning back.

"My car isn't much better."

Romano twisted around, sending a glare at the Spaniard who merely smiled back at the scowling man. "Yeah... but at least your car is _red_. Not some shit colour like black or white... or fucking _brown._"

A chuckle purred in Spain's throat. He slipped the keys out of the ignition, opening the door with a clank and a creak before he stepped out. "Roma,_ your_ car is black." The door slammed shut, leaving Romano alone in the car. He had a point... his precious sports car _was _black, wasn't it? But, unlike these bastards' cars, he had a car that looked orgasmic in such a handsome colour, and no other hue would suffice.

Romano huffed, opening and shuffling out of the vehicle. "Yeah, but my car isn't a piece of shit."

Spain was already waiting for him by the door, taking the time to lock the car before slipping his hand into the Italian's and walking to the overly large building. "Yes, my love. You're right."

"Damn right, I am."

So many nations were already gathered in the meeting room, some readying presentations, a few propped nonchalantly against the wall and the others chatting away with those sitting beside them or their friends. It honestly surprised Romano, with how early it was. Normally, people came in at a much later time, sometimes even late, and he was usually among those late goers, but he had someone he had to meet before the conference... at the tea sucker's request. Now, all he had to do was find the blond man and find somewhere to leave Spain.

Romano glanced around the room, meeting unfamiliar faces as his eyes travelled around the room, half of them the new nations who were here for the first time. His sight eventually locked on Veneziano, who was conversing with _muscles_ and that freaky brother of his, waving his hands in the air as he spoke with the stupidest grin on his face. Well, he _seemed_ to be okay with the way he carried himself; apparently the potato bastard had taken very good care of him. Well... Romano couldn't say that he wasn't happy about it, since he called Vene only three times in the past month.

"Hey, Roma. Why don't you talk to your brother?" Breath tickled Romano's ear as Spain whispered into it, gently rubbing the balls of his fingers into the nation's shoulders. "I need to have a quick chat with my brothers." Brothers... in other words, those other Spanish bastards, each formed from Old Spain's land and making up the Spanish States... ugh, why did he want to talk to _them_? They were the only other people Spain talked to besides Romano, his boss or Prussia. Hell, he didn't even talk to France anymore for some reason, even when the fuck-face randomly showed up the other day. Although... the moment that the blond saw the Italian, Romano could've sworn that the bastard shat bricks before he ran away like he did when he saw Germans in his yard.

After a quick kiss on the cheek, Spain left Romano alone, crossing the room to the group of six Spaniards one of the doors. He watched the brunet for only a moment before making his way to his own brother, grinning once the idiot finally noticed him approaching him. Veneziano leapt from his chair, arms thrown out side as he sprinted for the elder Italian, latching them around his chest in the tightest hug he could muster and burying his head into Romano's neck. "_Fratello... oh fratello..._" Vene cried out, hugging his brother even closer before he pulled away, frantically touching at Romano's face with trembling fingers. "He didn't hurt you? _Please_ tell me he didn't..." He looked Romano over, spouting out that mantra over and over again.

"Vene..." Romano tried to make him stop, holding his hands but he only kept on, tears streaming down his face like water over red stone. "_Feliciano_!" He finally halted his sobs, pitifully gazing at his brother, who gently smiled as a response. "_He_ didn't hurt me, Feli. _That_ bastard is too much of a fucking sap to hurt me." Yes, maybe Spain was... but _España_ wasn't. As long as Vene never found the bruises along his back and shoulders, he wouldn't know. "Say, you're looking healthier."

Veneziano seemed shocked about Romano's comment, clearly not used to his elder brother acting so kind to him. 'Oh... yes.. um..." he stuttered. "Luddy has been a good doctor." Of course it was the potato fucker that was taking care of the younger Italian, but Romano still glared at the blond bastard who refrained from entering their conversation. He should be thankful that Vene was able to find such a caring nation... yet, it didn't mean Romano had to like him. Damn potato sucking bastard. "_Fratello_... how has... um.. _he_ treated you?"

Romano led his brother over to the chair beside the bulky blond once he began to lean against him, apparently still a bit weak. "He's been nice... I guess."

"I think he's been a little more than nice. Kesesesesese~"

Ugh... as much as he missed _Gilbert_, he definitely didn't miss that other albino bastard. Romano shot a sneer at the grinning freak, tempted to kick him out of his damn chair just for being the annoying bastard that he was. "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

Prussia's grinned mutated into perverted smirk, and he pulled down his own collar, cackling as Romano flushed and instantly brought his hands up to his neck. Germany and Veneziano seemed _horrified_ by the idea, obviously assuming the worst. "Romano..." Germany's voice was practically pouring out concern as he spoke, "He hasn't _forced_ you to do anything, has he?"

"No, bastard. He hasn't. That idiot just gets enthusiastic when he's bored." This was why he hated it when Spain did this shit... it was always in places he couldn't easily hide it, and leave it to the potato bastard's fucking brother to notice something like that. _Why_ couldn't he have just stayed home?

"_America, you insufferable __**git**_!"

Ah, yes. _That_ was why he had to come to this meeting.

Romano glanced across the room, instantly spotting the Briton growing pushing away America with every bit of strength he had. He yelled something again and America laughed, slamming that massive hand of his down on the blond's back, earning a pained grunt and more harsh words. "Feli. I'll be back after I have a small chat with England."

"Why do you need to talk with _him_, Roma?" Oh... When did Spain finish his little chat with his brothers and join Romano? He turned the Italian around in his arms, pressing yet _another_ kiss on his cheek before holding him tight.

"There is something I need to discuss with him."

Spain tensed, using his head to block Vene and Germany's sight from Romano's expression as his fingers dug into the hidden bruises along his sides. His voice was scalding and menacing in Romano's ear, low enough so only the Italian could hear him as his words flicked off of his tongue. "_You better not talk about __**him**__. You will __**not**__ be returning to that whelp._" Nails dug even deeper into Romano's wounds, and he fought back a hiss. "_Do you understand_?"

"I won't... I won't talk about _him_." Well, anymore than he had to... Spain released Romano, watching with a frown as he made his way over to England... that is before the scowl suddenly vanished, and a hand reached up to his head to brush away the pain that was surely stinging at it. The blond was completely ignoring the Italian as he walked up, standing behind him as he watched him organize some of his papers from his folder. Romano cleared his throat before he sat down in the chair beside him.

"I'm assuming you haven't figured it out yet." England muttered as Romano stilled himself, casting him a glance from the corner of his eye.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me, and I don't need Spain chewing me out for talking to you longer than he deems reasonable." He retorted, crossing his arms and glaring at him, not at all amused by the smirk splaying across England's lips.

"Alright then. Let's keep this simple, shall we?" England hummed as he folded his hands upon the table. "Now, I'm sure you realised how quickly you fell for that human, am I correct?"

"Yeah, and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it."

England quietly laughed under his breath. "It was like someone was forcing you to love him, wasn't it?"

Wait... what the fuck did he just say? Forcing him to love Antonio? What kind of shit was that? "What the hell are you talking about, dammit?"

"Did you notice anything changing about your appearance when you were there?"

"My scars disappeared..."

"Anything else?"

Romano frowned, thinking back of the months before. "No...Well, not until I got back."

"That's to be expected." England leaned back in his chair, looking behind Romano's shoulder and over to the Spaniard striking up a conversation with Prussia, glancing at the two every now and then. He sighed, returning his gaze to the Italian. "That other universe was trying to make you it's 'Lovino'."

Romano gawked at the Englishman. "But... why would it do that?"

"Universes are much more fragile than we normally assume. They can't sustain the pressure of two... well I guess you could say 'copies' of one being, and will seek to destroy the weaker in order to regain its balance, even if the weaker of the two was the original." England paused for a moment, allowing information to seep into Romano's brain before he spoke once more. "Normally, the universe will instantly force the original's identity to the copy entering from a foreign world. That includes their physical appearance _and_ their relationships. Eventually their _memories_ as well."

"Are...are you saying that my feelings for Antonio... were actually Lovino's?"

"Yes, lad. The other universe was forcing you to love Antonio, _and_ the same goes for the human. It forced _him_ to have the same feelings for you as he did Lovino."

That... that actually made sense, when he put it like that, especially since Antonio seemed to be perfectly fine with the fact that Romano wasn't Lovino nor human... it really seemed idiotic, and Romano had always just assumed that he _chose_ to overlook those two facts. But what did that mean now? Everything he had with Antonio... it wasn't _real_... just something forced upon the two by something that couldn't handle having two Lovinos. "So what did you mean back in that shed?"

There was another sigh as England shifted in his chair. "When you came back, our universe saw you as 'damaged' but the resignation papers were holding it back, meaning it couldn't fully 'fix' you, or remove Lovino's identity from you, as another way to put it. Once the papers were destroyed, the universe was able to instantly repair your physical appearance, since that is the easiest to manipulate."

"So you're saying that the papers were interfering with the universe?"

"You catch on quickly. Yes, that is correct, on both sides actually."

"Both sides?"

"Yes. When in another universe, _Nations_ won't change at all, due to our connection to our people and land. But...when those papers were made, it allowed the other universe to meld you into its Lovino at the same rate that the documents were written."

Romano frowned, thinking his words over in his head. "But if the papers were destroyed quickly, and my appearance was fixed at the same...er... _rate_... then why are my feelings...emotions...whatever you want to call that shit... why weren't they fixed too?"

"Emotions are much more complex than physical appearances, and complicated things simply take longer to repair." He smiled at the Italian. "Don't worry lad. It won't be too much longer until you're fully 'Romano' once more."

"The meeting will begin in five minutes. Please take your proper seats."

Romano nearly jumped out of his skin when Germany's voice boomed over the dull roar of the room, instantly calming it as the nations separated from their groups and began to gather that the overly lengthy and oddly shaped table. He turned to the blond before he stood. "Ah, um... thanks... for explaining." England simply waved him off with a smile before turning his attention to the American who finally sat down beside him, chewing him out for acting like a hooligan. Romano made his way back to his brother, still sitting by Germany with an empty seat on his other side.

The elder Italian took his place beside Veneziano, right behind their nameplates and he looked around, spotting yet _another_ nation that he needed to speak to. _Russia_... that damn bastard with that freaky smile and huge nose. Lovino mentioned that he saw that fucker before Romano turned up in that universe. But right now he had to sit through this pointless meeting, watching how the nations who lost another dear to them glare at Spain, surely thinking of some way to make his life a living hell. It wasn't like _he _asked to be brought back from the dead... back into a body that would go ape-shit on him if certain people or things were mentioned.

Once everyone took their proper places, Germany allowed his voice to drone out over the room. The meeting officially began after a short introduction from the German, quickly followed by a few words from England and America concerning the world's state and economy. Romano ignored the two blonds, fixing his attention on the brunet situated between his brothers while he nervously twisted his fingers together. He had a speech to make, didn't he? His eyes remained on the table, shifting every moment or two as his lips silently babbled words, that is, before they flickered up to Romano.

A smile crossed his face and Romano frowned. So... everything that held him back from loving Spain like he deserved... it was nothing but a lie... well, in a way, and eventually those bonds would disappear. Romano glanced down at his wrist, tugging back the cuff of his shirt to stare at the flesh that was once covered by a golden band. Everything... it was nothing but a fabrication of an unstable universe trying to fix what was wrong.

Romano, himself, had _never_ loved Antonio.

"_Reino de __Nueva España_. You have a report, do you not?"

Spain flinched, nodding as he stood. "I would like to make a statement on the behalf of the Spanish States, regarding the warrant on _Señor_ _South Italy_." The entire room momentarily switched their attention to Romano, a few people commenting how they didn't notice when he came back.

Spain's voice was oddly calm as he began, and even a bit commanding, relaying his report about the status of his, and his brothers' land. Everyone gave him their 'full' attention, some choosing to glare at him while others merely stared at him with dull eyes, usually tapping their fingers or fiddling with their pens. Romano did at least spare him his ears, becoming quite surprised that the Spanish States' government wanted Romano to be arrested on sight, although the news about them threatening to invade Italy wasn't new to him. Apparently, they called off all of those threats after some 'negotiation' between Spain himself and his boss. Yet, the bastard's brothers didn't seem to take too kindly with that, each sending glares across the room every other minute or so. When he finished his speech, Spain sat back down, promptly smiling in Romano's direction before turning his attention to the next speaker.

That process carried on at an ungodly slow speed, making Romano want to slam his head into the table if it didn't hurry up anytime soon. He was hungry, had to pee and _still_ needed to talk to the Russian freak. This was why he always got Veneziano to do this shit for him if Spain didn't have to go; Vene seemed to like this more than he did anyway but... with his current health... maybe it _would_ be best if he went as well. Just to make it less stressful on the younger man, if anything.

About two hours later, the meeting was finally over and Romano immediately stood, almost sprinting to the other side of the room before Russia could walk out. "Hey! Hey bastard!" He yelled out, ignoring the incredulous looks he earned for his outburst.

Russia turned, smiling at the Italian once he realized who it was. "Ah~ Mr. Romano. It's good to see you _back_~"

Romano scowled at the man, fighting back his itching fist was it wanted to punch the bastard right in that huge nose. "Don't give me that shit." He growled out. "I want to know how you got to that other fucking universe."

"The same way you got back, comrade. _Angliia_ isn't the only one who can use magic."

Oh, how he wanted to skin that smirking bastard alive and use his hide as a fucking rug to wipe his feet on. "Who sent you!"

"I sent myself~"

"Who told you to send _me!"_

"Ah~ I'm not supposed to tell you, but..." Russia paused, lightly giggling to himself before he continued, "Seeing how you are back, his plan must have not gone as well as he wanted."

Romano sneered at the Russian's comment, slightly wishing Spain would hear it and kill whoever made the choice to do such a thing. "Then who was it?"

"_Frantsiya_, comrade. He asked me to in return for getting my big sister out of reconstruction."

Ukraine... so he did it for his sister? Well... Romano's rage towards Russia was slightly watered down from his statement, feeling that he would probably do the same thing for his own brother if he had to. But it still didn't justify him killing another. He'd let it go, for now. "Thank you... Russia."

"No problem, comrade~ Have fun, _da_?" And with a final smile, Russia exited the room, leaving Romano to plot France's demise on his own. He would wait until he and Spain were back home before fully planning how to make France suffer more than he could ever dream.

Eventually, he met back up with Spain and they made their way to his car. The entire time, Romano stared at the back of the brunet's head, pondering what England said to him only a few hours earlier. If... all of those feelings belonged to Lovino, it really wasn't the same as cheating... was it? He huff, quickening his step so he'd be beside the Spaniard. No. It _wasn't_ cheating because they weren't _his_ personal feelings, despite how his mind wanted to trick him into thinking that they were. This... this love for Spain... it _wasn't_ wrong. It never was.

And it was time to rebuild his relationship with Spain.

"Hey, ba- um... Spain." Romano muttered under his breath, slightly thankful that the idiot heard him the first time and he didn't have to call out to him again.

"Yes, _mi amor_?" Spain was smiling at the Italian, even going so far as to walk shoulder to shoulder with the younger man.

"I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat." He grumbled, taking the Spaniard's hand into his own while he used his other to flip out his phone, texting a message to a certain someone who would help him deal with his 'France' problem. Well... more like a group of people to aid him.

"So... as friends or as a date?"

Romano rolled his eyes, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "What the hell do you think, idiot?"

* * *

><p>Such a strange four years it had been since Romano returned, one of them spent entirely in glee from France resigning his position as a nation. He never said why, but the Italian knew it was from the 'threats' of a certain mafia and from Romano constantly telling him that he was only a breath away from spilling the truth to Spain. That French fuck wanted Spain to himself, Romano soon found out, going so far as to try to kill the Italian and make Spain's life hell by bringing back his old body, despite <em>all<em> of the warnings that England gave him. And now, that bastard was long gone, replaced by another the moment he signed those papers.

Steam drifted up towards the rafters in Spain's washroom, each swirling around once it met the cracked window and Romano lazily craned his head back, watching the shapes forming in the mist as he indolently made circles in his warm bathwater. He sighed, closing his eyes and enjoying the warm water slither over his scarred flesh. Thoughts of his plans for the next day drifted in and out of his mind. Spain would be gone sometime in the morning, hopefully anyway, and during the time of his absence... Romano was going to visit Antonio for the first time since he left. He already talked to England about it half a year prior and he agreed to send him back for no longer than two hours. Meaning, he wanted to give Spain part of his birthday gift _before_ he left, just in case anything happened.

After all... that bastard deserved something other than harsh words and punches in return for the sweet gestures he constantly lathered all over the Italian.

"Roma~" came the voice from the opposite end of the overly large tub, followed by a foot brushing against Romano's chest, trailing up his skin until he reached his throat.

"Bastard. What are you doing?" Romano swatted away Spain's foot, twisting his neck until it popped a few times. He gave the Spaniard a half-hearted glare, reaching under the water for the larger feet propped up on either side of his waist and he ran his fingers down them, rubbing at the tops of the appendage.

Spain grinned. "You seem lost in thought, _mi amor_."

"Got a problem with it?" Although his words seemed harsh, Romano's voice remained soft, sweet even as he smiled at the nation bathing with him. "By the way." He tip-toed his fingers up Spain's leg for as far as he could reach without leaning forward, blinking as he felt his own feet being rubbed by two thumbs. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

Spain pursed his lips, making a ridiculous pouting face before he sighed. That smile returned to his mouth, but it wasn't as happy as the other one. "Early, love. I'll have to leave around four or five." Damn... that was way too fucking early for Romano's liking, but when he thought about it... he would have to leave around the same time to make it to England at a decent hour if he drove, and he didn't have enough money to spare to buy a plane ticket. Besides, the ticket would show that he was going to that island above France, meaning Spain would find out that he wasn't going to his brother's like he said he was... hell, Romano even got together with Veneziano so make the whole story up. Romano glanced up at the clock ticking away on the wall. _Just eight..._ That bastard needed to go to sleep if he wanted to even consider waking up on time, but first...

Water sloshed on the edges of the tub once Romano shifted his weight, practically crawling over to the Spaniard watching him with half-lidded eyes. A devilish grin formed on the Italian's lips, and his tongue flickered out to taste the air caressing his mouth as he pulled himself up by the sides of the tub, situating himself on Spain's lap. "_Spagna_..." Romano whispered into his ear, humming in delight once he felt Spain's legs move to a more comfortable position and latch those perverted fingers of his on his upper thighs, slowly making their way higher and higher. "Do you want part of your birthday gift now?"

Spain leaned forward, stealing a kiss from the Italian. "Hmmm... what would it be,_ cariño_?"

Romano growled as he pressed his lips against Spain's throat, slowly rotating his hips in order to earn a drawn out groan from his lover. "_Soy todo tuyo._" A grin parted Romano's mouth at the shiver that coursed down Spain's body; who knew that simply speaking to him in Spanish was such a turn on for the bastard?

Within moments, Spain picked up Romano in his arms, using his feet to drain the tub before scuttling out of the room, smiling down at the Italian as he carried him to their bed. A laugh escaped Romano's lungs once Spain tossed him on the bed, playfully nipping at the younger nation's shoulders before moving south, leaving wet, smacking kisses down his torso. "_Mi cielo_." He hummed against Romano's navel, swirling his tongue against the hipbone gently sloping down to meet the Italian's thigh. "_Mi tesoro_." A line of kisses peppered the Italian's skin, matching the path Spain made as he travelled back up to his love's shoulders, neck and then his lips, ravishing them with as much passion that the smaller male would allow. "_Quiero hacerte el amor_."

Spain swallowed down Romano's groan, gasping himself once he felt the Italian draw him closer and bit at his lower lip. "_Te deseo._" It was nothing more than a breathless mutter, but something about it drove the Spaniard mad with feverous love.

How long has it been...that they've treated each other as lovers? Romano half wondered a little later, watching Spain as he leaned back, pressing his hands against Romano's knees. His thrusts were slow, and gentle, yet still powerful enough to rock the Italian's entire body against the wall of pillows he was propped up on, even when Romano's fingers brushed against those muscular thighs, moving up until his digits were splayed across the sides of his ribs. Faint, breath laden grunts poured from both mouths, matching Spain's slow pacing of rolling his hips into Romano's.

It really hadn't been that long since they were this open to each other, had it? Maybe a year at the most. Hell, it took Romano a few months after that meeting to kiss Spain on his cheek, and a few more for a smooch on the mouth. Looking back, they both found it rather silly.

"_Tienes los ojos…más bonitos…del mundo._" Emeralds gently gazed down at Romano, followed by a smile and peck on the lips before Spain released the legs in his grasp. He chuckled at how quickly they wrapped around his back, drawing him closer as their owner's arms latched to his neck and pulled him down.

"_Cállate y bésame_." He needn't be told twice. Lips locked onto their mates, allowing pleasured hums and gasps to escape as Romano teased him a time or two, raising his hips meet his lover's thrusts while he bit at Spain's bottom lip. Eventually, he trailed off, deciding to leave marks on the Spaniard's skin as his lover's scalding breath washed down his ear and neck.

Even through the slow, loving pace Spain had originally set, it wasn't long until either of the two fell into a passionate dance of thrusts and slapping skin. Grunts and moans alike littered the air, most of them from Spain while the Italian seemed to not be able to catch his breath. God, he probably loved those sounds that poured from Spain's mouth as much as that bastard adored every time a small mew of his would be spared to the world. Although, the idiot probably wouldn't be too fond of all the marks staining his neck and shoulders.

Too fucking bad.

Romano didn't know who came first, nor did he really care. Once Spain collapsed on his body, the Italian refused to let him go; drinking in his warmth and scent as the bastard attempted to regain his breath, that is, before he sprinkled more kisses onto Romano's cheeks and lips. "Ahhh... Roma~" Spain shifted the two to their sides, allowing his lover to use his arm as a pillow. "I love you so much, my precious sweetheart." Romano smiled up to the man, brushing away a few of the curls sticking to his forehead. His leaned up, kissing Spain before snuggling his nose into the crook of his neck.

"I love you too, bastard. Now go to sleep. You have to get up early and I'm not waking your sorry ass up."

Spain chuckled, running his fingers through the chocolate hair resting upon his love's skull. "You're too kind, Roma. Are you sure you don't want me to clean you up?" He asked, but it was already too late and Romano's grip wouldn't unlatch from his torso. Well, it could always wait until the morning.

And morning... that ungrateful bitch that seemed to ruin all of Romano's nice dreams, well he reared her ugly head in the form of Spain's alarm clock shrieking like a banshee out of hell. Romano groaned, trying to bury his head under the plethora of pillows at the top of Spain's mattress as he kicked the other man in the bed, trying to get him to turn the damn thing off. Eventually, he did, groaning himself as bones popped in his spine. This... well it just sucked. Even though Romano got enough sleep to be fairly functional, his skin felt sticky and his ass hurt like a bitch; his eyes burned, and he couldn't' get that bad taste out of the back of his throat.

At least Spain was still there, for now anyway.

So, with a gruff sigh, Romano twisted himself over until his feet lazily slipped off the edge of the bed and he made his way into the washroom. He yawned, scratching at his stomach as he climbed into the shower, not at all surprised to see Spain already in it. They shared a bath, taking the time to quickly wash each other's hair before jumping back out, Spain in a much more hurried pace than the Italian. As such, Romano simply waited for him to finish getting ready, kissing him goodbye and watching him leave before getting himself dressed. He locked the doors to Spain's home as he walked out, making sure that his gift for Antonio was safely tucked away in his pocket.

And the drive to England was very... _lonely_. He found himself wondering if he actually wanted to do this, just like all of the other times... each ending in him chickening out before he even _talked_ to the Briton. Yet, even as he walked up to England's vast mansion, ushered inside and lead down to the basement, those fears failed to flutter away like he had hoped they would.

"Are you sure you want to do this? A _lot_ has changed in four years."

"Just do it."

England didn't say another word to Romano, holding up his hand instead. It shimmered with an eerie blue light, matching the circle glowing under the Italian's feet, each detail pulsating like the flickering of a heart, growing larger and larger until the illumination engulfed the room. Romano felt strange, like a weight was lifted from his body while something else was suffocating him. His fingers and toes tingled with a warm chill, and an invisible wind tousled his hair in every which way, tenderly caressing his face with its soft touches. Soon enough, he couldn't feel the floor anymore, and just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Icy cold air stabbed at Romano's cheeks, matching how it no longer smelt like stuffy old books, but rather crystal clean air. He deeply inhaled, savouring the purity of the land England sent him to. Glancing around, he determined that he was only a little ways off from Antonio's home, having to merely follow the path to safely make his way there, yet, just as he was about to make one step closer to his destination, a horrible chill slithered over his body.

Something was wrong... something that he hadn't felt in a very, _very_ long time.

But he couldn't let his precious time dwindle away, and so he shook off the horrible shivers tingling at his skin, and the sick bubbling in his stomach and continued on his way. Yet... that feeling didn't leave him with each step he made. There weren't any birds chirping away or foraging in the snow, no animals jumping between the trees, nor the gentle smells of the city carried along with the wind. Romano huffed after a while. His mind was just playing tricks on him.

It wasn't long, maybe twenty minutes or so before he reached Antonio's home and a smile forced itself on his lips. Excitement, trepidation and anxiety danced across his heart with their hands interlaced with another, allowing their feet to fall harder with every step closer to the front door. He raised his hand, hesitating before slamming it against the door a few times. Silence met him for the first few minutes, but soon after, there was a shuffle behind the entryway. It creaked open, far enough so Romano could barely see a mess of blond hair covering green eyes.

Something... it wasn't right here.

"So you've come back." Arthur grumbled out, his voice strangely weak compared to the last time Romano heard it. "What do you want?"

"Just to visit. Is it too much to ask?"

Arthur frowned. "Is it just you?"

"Yes."

The door slid open, revealing a haggardly dressed man. His clothes and hands where stained with yellow and red spots, some faded while others were fresh, and he seemed to be thinner than Romano remembered. He no longer stood proudly as he used to, now slightly hunching his back as if he was in pain, matching the quiet huffs hissing through his teeth, those hollowed eyes watching Romano as he passed, making sure to close the door behind him. A musky odour hung low in the air... pungent... and sweet, like rotting fruit on a hot day, masking over the entire home like the layer of dust covering most of the surfaces that he could see through the darkness. Arthur brushed past him, limping horribly as he made his way over to the couch in front of the empty fireplace, completely ignoring the gooey blood dripping down his right arm.

A groan escaped his split lips once he plopped down on his favourite armchair, coughing as dust fluttered up into the air. He flicked his eyes back over to the Italian. "If you want to see _him_, he's upstairs."

"What happened... to you? To this place?"

"War... and then pestilence." He coughed a few more times into his hands, grimacing at the sight of mucus, saliva and blood slithering over his fingers before he wiped them on his pants. "The entire city is dead. Those who were smart left after the Riuspans attacked. They burned all of our fields on the hottest days of winter… and then left their sickly to die among our population. Whatever they had… it spread like wildfire, claiming everyone that it touched. Francis…Gilbert...Ludwig… they all died early on. They were the lucky ones." Arthur coughed more, this series much more harsh than the last. He huffed, some sort of mucus film flapping in the back of his throat.

This… this was _horrifying_. How could something like this happen in such a peaceful world? "Wha…what happened to Feli?"

"Don't know. Tino and Berwald took him after you left. Their bodies haven't been found among the dead of Nodoln, nor have they been seen alive." Arthur smacked his lips as he closed his eyes, slipping further down into his chair. "Go to him. He doesn't have much longer."

Fear shot through Romano's chest. "What about you?"

A sadistic smile crossed his lips, laced with disappointment and even sadness. He sighed, tilting his head to the side. "I'll be fine. I've watched all of my loved ones die… it's about time that I joined them." His eyes cracked open, baring the dulled jade to the Italian. "Now go." As much as Romano wanted to scream no and to find the blond bastard some help, he allowed his will to be bent by Arthur, keeping his eyes on the dying man as he made his way up the stairs.

Romano forced his vision to Antonio's door, standing wide open for all to enter. The curtains of his bed were drawn together, blocking his view of the mattress. That pungent stench was stronger here than in the din, accompanying the icy fear clawing at Romano's skin as he made his way over to the side of the bed. He could hear deep, labored breathing through the sheets, cackling with mucus and coughs. Did he really want to see what was behind that thin sheet?

No.. he really didn't.

Yet, he still pulled back the cloth, revealing that idiot that he longed to see for so many years. Antonio… oh… _oh_ he looked far worse than Romano could ever imagine. That once beautiful sun-kissed skin was painted a grimy white lathered with sweat, like someone decided to mix chalk and water, and then rubbed it all over his body, complementing how his skin was stretched over the skeleton of the man he used to be, accenting the protruding bones and lack of muscle that he used to have. Shriveled lips parted, allowing harsh coughs to fill the air.

Romano already felt tears streaming down his cheeks, even before Antonio cringed, clutching tighter to the blanket thrown across his form as he gasped for air. He reached out, cupping the sickly cold cheek. Antonio's breath hitched at the touch, and his eyes slowly pried themselves open, revealing darkened emeralds upon unhealthy yellow and red sclera. They locked onto the Italian, widening once he realized who it was, but… he remained silent, save for the horrible gasps escaping his tattered lungs. Words couldn't form in Romano's head, no matter how hard he tried to come up with something to say. Nothing…. Nothing could ever prepare him for this.

Antonio suddenly tired to shift his weight to the side, attempting to sit himself up so he'd be facing the Italian, but Romano wouldn't allow him. He pressed down on the Ispiahnan's shoulders, forcing him down onto his back, yet, when Romano tried to return to his original position, arms wrapped themselves around his neck. They held him, quivering as what little strength they had began to die away once more. "_Ro…ma..._" A whisper aloft scalding, rotten breath, brushing past his ear as it danced down his neck, meeting the fingers clutching so tightly to the back of his jacket. Antonio wheezed out Romano's name again.

"I'm here…Antonio." He returned the brunet's hug, doing his best not to gag or cringe when his fingers came into contact with a warm, wet substance under the man's back. He prayed it was sweat… but knew it probably wasn't. It was simply too sticky to be such a simple thing.

"M-m-missed… you." Sweat matted curls brushed against Romano's neck and the lower corner of his jaw.

"I missed you too… now stop talking and save your strength." _Save his strength…_ha. How laughable. Antonio wouldn't be able to survive this, and they both knew it, yet… it still couldn't stop the tears from streaming down Romano's face, staining Antonio's already filthy shirt with more liquid.

"L-love you…"

Oh...oh god… Antonio still didn't know the truth about everything that happened. He still thought that he loved Romano on his own accord… that everything about their relationship was real and not forced upon them. And… Romano couldn't bring himself to tell Antonio about any of it.

He would be his 'Lovino'… if only for the moment.

"I l-love you t-too..you st-stupid bastard…" Such lies… all for the hope that Antonio's last moments would at least be somewhat joyful. Romano cried into Antonio's shoulder, clutching tighter to the dying human with every sob that stained his skin. Small, love filled kisses were pressed into the side of his head by ghastly lips and tender fingers stroked Romano's spine, trying to comfort him even though he was the healthier of the two. This wasn't right… Antonio didn't deserve any of this. Such a kind…sweet hearted man deserved a life of happiness… not one with an early death.

Eventually, Romano pulled away from Antonio but he remained hovering over the man. Rough fingers brushed away the tears on the Italian's cheeks before they cupped them, rubbing the flesh with blood smeared thumbs. A crooked, pained smile stretched Antonio's lips. "S-Stay… with me…"

He couldn't… he had to go back to Spain. "I will. I'll always b-be with you."

Antonio's smile only grew as his hands left Romano's face, reaching down to his own neck, allowing the Italian to see the gold band that was _still_ around his wrist. His fingers weakly curled around the chain on his neck, pulling at it. "T-T-Take… this." Those dulled emeralds stared up at Romano, pleading for him to do as he asked. "P-Please…. d-don't forget m-me…"

Romano unlatched the necklace from Antonio's neck, instantly recognizing the cross dangling on the blood streaked chain. "I won't, Antonio." He held the item to his heart, clinching it hard enough to leave an imprint in his skin. "I'll never forget you." He leaned down, pressing a kiss first to Antonio's forehead, then to his nose and finally his lips.

But, when he pulled back…

There wasn't any breath escaping the bastard's mouth.

No heart throbbing under his ribcage.

And those eyes blankly stared at the Italian; completely dead to the world and everything around them.

Tears dripped down onto the pallid flesh of the human, but they were brushed away by tender lips only for more to replace them. "I'll never…forget you…Antonio." Romano slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out a golden ring adorned with the same pattern that was etched into their matching marriage bracelets. He gently kissed it before slipping it onto Antonio's finger. "I'll always remember you."

He spent the remaining time he had caressing Antonio's hand, gently humming through the choking sobs the same tune that the Ispiahnan would sing to him.

Over…

And over…

Until a bright light engulfed his sight and he was brought back to his home world. He ignored England's spouting about having to kill some sort of virus before he could make it back, going straight for his car. The blond followed him out the door, apparently worried about how _depressed_ Romano looked when he came back but he let it go once the Italian slammed his car into gear and drove away. He didn't know how many cars he passed or even if he was driving the limit on his way home. Tears still stung at his eyes, even when he skidded to a halt in front of Spain's house, hardly noticing that the Spaniard's car was already back.

He silently stormed into the house, setting his mind on going straight into Spain's bedroom… that is _before_ he ran into the green eyed brunet. Instantly, he latched both of his arms around the man, letting out wail after wail into his chest, thoroughly confusing his love in the process. They remained that way for nearly an hour… Romano bubbling out sobs while Spain tenderly ran his hands across his shoulders, humming to him the first song that came into his head… that fucking _lullaby_…

And that night, Romano cleaned up the necklace that Antonio gave him… and clasped it around his neck, smiling as the cross neatly sat atop his heart.

_Thank you, for everything… my dear Antonio._

_~End~  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for everyone who followed this. It makes me so happy to know that so many people enjoyed this and I love you all.<strong>

**Time for some explanations;**

**What were the countries selected for the reconstruction?**

Spain, Poland, Finland, Norway, Hungary, Belgium, Latvia, Romania, Slovakia, Ukraine, Bulgaria, Moldova, Serbia and Portugal. They all were slit up into multiple countries, but Spain was the only one who continued to 'live' after the split, due to France telling the humans to use his old body for the new personification. Ukraine was the only one to completely get out of it due to France asking the government to stop and sending help to the nation.

**Why was N. Spain crazy?**

(I know the explanation is lame but here it is.)

When Spain's land was torn from him, his dead human body's mind was separated into seven different aspects of his personality and were evenly distributed to the new lands as the base of their own personalities.

(For the next part, think of trying to tear dry bread apart with your hands, leaving crumbs behind.) When the humans used his old body for New Spain's body, what remained of his old shattered mind was still trapped inside the body, independent of New Spain's mind. (In short, two minds, one body.) They both answer to the same names, and retain the body's feelings for other people (i.e. Loving Romano, hating England, etc.)

The nicer mind doesn't remember anything that the more violent side does (as in what he does when he's in control), but it's not the same the other way around. Neither knows that the other side exists, but the less violent personality does suspect that something is wrong with him and gets very worried when he gets headaches, because he knows something usually happens that he can't remember after those periods in time.

They both lose their memory when the change between personalities isn't instant. Their personality during that time is a mix between the two.

This can never be fixed, even if the old land merges back into what it was before it separated. If it did that, the different personifications would remain unless they resign. If they do chose to resign, then their personality would merge with whoever has the capital as their heart (New Spain.)

Now, the only question that remains is which of the two minds in Spain's body was N. Spain and which was the remains of Old Spain. The bad thing is that it may not be who you think it is.

The Original Spain is the crazy personality, New Spain is the loving personality. This is because when the humans split up his mind, they left the violent nature Spain had as a conquistador in his body and new Spain happened to get the loving personality he had. This is why the violent side can remember everything that happened to his body, save for the moments when the personality change isn't instant.

**When does Spain's crazy side come out?**

Anytime Spain gets angry, frustrated or overly annoyed, in general. Whenever Romano mentions Antonio or the other universe, he will also come out, threatening him if he decides to leave. Also, if Romano goes somewhere without telling Spain, the violent personality will be in control of the body when he comes home. Other than that, sometimes its just random when he comes out. Apparently, he even came out a few times when they had sex, or at least Romano assumed so since Spain didn't remember the act at all. (The only difference that Roma can think of is that he will suddenly become more clingy during the act, but that happens normally as well.)

Romano usually doesn't care that the other personality comes out, after he got over his initial fear of the violent side. He sees it as just another part of Spain, something that he'll have to live with as long as he was with the Spaniard. Besides, it was nice to have someone who wouldn't just sit there and take verbal abuse over and over.

**What happened to France?**

After Romano found out that France had sent him to the other universe so that he could have Spain all to himself, Roma arranged for the mafia to kidnap the nation. They did, and Romano interrogated the Frenchman, learning that he was the one to convinced the humans to reuse Spain's body, but he didn't anticipate for Spain to retain all of his memories. He turned down all of France's advances, focusing only on Romano while he was gone. After hearing France's story, Romano tells him that if he didn't resign, he would be in pain for the rest of his life and that the mafia will always have him around their finger. He caved in (after the mafia tortured him), resigning five months later. The moment he signed the papers, he died and the earth produced a new personification for France.

**If there is anything else that confuses you, I'll just reply to the message with an explanation. T****hese were the ****major points that weren't fully explained imo.**

**Until next time,**

**~Self-titled Demo.**


End file.
